


The Welcome Party

by SensationalSunburst



Series: PawPaw!Cor [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Afterlife fic, Aranea is a badass babe, Aulea has had enough of Bahamut's shit, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone loves Prompto, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Ignis bakes for everyone, Insomnia is Rebuilt, Obvi there's some sad stuff because reasons, Prompto's Adoptive Parents, Regis has nightmares, Stress Baking, Were asshats, but it'll all be OOOOKkkkay, depictions of blood, flowercrowns, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSunburst/pseuds/SensationalSunburst
Summary: A series of connected post-cannon afterlife one-shots.After a long journey, all are greeted by the welcome party.





	1. The Welcome Party

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again! 
> 
> Thanks entirely to y'alls amazing support, I have a new series of ficlets and one shots to share.  
> Prepare to be lambasted with my headcannons y'all. 
> 
> This will be a multi-part fic, still part of the PawPaw!Cor universe.

Aulea was sitting in her favorite garden, contemplating how to prune the great pink bush that had taken the majority of it over, when she felt a void within her heart fill like a balloon.

_Regis._

In death, as in life, she favored long, flowing gowns in an array of jewel tones, as she felt as though they best flattered her olive complexion. However, the danger of fabric in excessive lengths was that it tended to bunch up under her feet when she was trying to move with any sort of haste. In life, it’d worked as a sort of self-sensor. It forced her to move slowly, regally, with the grace that was expected of her as the Queen of Lucis.

Now, when she truly wanted to move quickly, it simply acted as a trip rope and she almost tumbled directly onto her face in her haste to find her wayward husband. However when she turned around, she found him just behind her, standing as still as a statue and pale as if he’d seen a ghost. Which, she supposed, he had.

She’d been dead a long time.

“Regis!” She wanted to shout it, but she was choking on her own breath, excitement making her movements clumsy and it came out as an undignified wheeze instead.

“Oh, Regis!” Auela gathered the hem of her dress in one hand and rushed forward, kicking off her shoes to ensure they didn’t slow her down.

How long had she waited for this moment? To see him, as young as she remembered, before the ring had begun to truly take its toll. How long had she waited to feel his arms around her, to bury her face into the curve of his neck, to complain about the feel of his beard against her face?

And yet, as she reached him, her fingertips brushing the smooth silk of his suit, he disappeared. Popping out of existence as if he’d never been there at all. Aulea tumbled to the ground, nearly going head over heels in her speed and allowed herself to lay in her own disappointment and confusion for a long moment.

“Odessa!” Aulea surprised herself at the volume of her voice, but she tried even harder the next time as she clambered to her feet and took off at a dead sprint down the Citadel's south breezeway, leaving her shoes abandoned in the grass.

“Odessa!” She screamed, pausing to glance down every hallway she passed for her longtime friend and companion. “Essa! Essa!”

Odessa popped up immediately from the hallway to Aulea’s right, snatching the smaller woman up by her thin shoulders.

“By Gods, Aulea, what’s the matter?” Odessa’s drawl was the only obvious indication of her upbringing outside the walls of Lucis. Her accent was reminiscent of Cid’s, Regis’s long time but distant retinue who, last she checked, had spent his old age in a mechanic shop with his granddaughter just outside the city walls.

“Reggie! Regis is here! I saw him, I swear it! But when I went to him he disappeared!” She gushed, hopping slightly from foot to foot.

“He disappeared?” Odessa asked, incredulous.

Clarus had arrived earlier, years earlier it seemed, and Odessa had found him napping in their quarters as if nothing had happened at all. As if Odessa hadn’t witnessed his body pinned to the the wall in the Citadel’s meeting room like a butterfly. As if Aulea hadn’t had to drag her away from the scene over screams that would never quite leave her. He’d sat both women down, and explained what had happened, with the betrayal at the peace signing, the escaping of the prince and his retinue, and the fact that Regis would most likely not be following him directly into the afterlife.

“Yes! He went somewhere else! But… I..” Aulea lifted her hands in the air, attempting to illustrate her confusion.

“Check the throne room. Both here… and there.”

Odessa and Aulea looked up as Cid strolled down the breezeway towards them, a wry smile across his young features. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and his bright red cap was pulled low over his eyes.

“What’s happened.” Odessa demanded. Cid shrugged, a picture of forced ease as he let himself fall roughly against the nearby column.

“The Dawn, I suspect.” He drawled, but he was anxious, that much was clear. His tight, forced smile and the way he was fiddling with the cuff of his jean jacket was evidence enough.

Aulea stepped back, panic thrumming through her veins and she closed her eyes, picturing the throne room in all of its terrible splendor. The dais , foreboding as always and the throne itself, plush and seemingly so small despite the room the enveloped it. She imagined herself sitting there on the throne beside Regis, welcoming delegates from across Eos. She forced her mind to focus on the feeling of his hand in hers, his grip strong and sure. Around her the air shifted, filling with familiar crystal lights, and between one blink and the next, she was standing at the base of the dais. The carpet, as worn as she remembered it, was rough under her bare feet. She turned about, a full 360 degrees, but still, no sign of Regis. But there, at the top of the stairs, just before the throne was the shimmering sign of a soul in transit.

She dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time and reached out with both hands to the split in reality, tearing it open and stepping through the veil between the Beyond and the world she’d long since left behind.

On all fours just to the side of the throne as if he’d collapsed there was Regis, watching as Cor Leonis braced his boot against the armrest of the highest seat of Lucis and put his entire body weight into the effort of pulling Regis’s sword from its final resting place through the center of her son’s chest.

Her vision dimmed, and she could not take her eyes away from the blood that covered the entirety of the throne. Her son’s blood, sluggishly weeping from the wound, where the blade had pushed through what must of been the entirety of his breastbone, through his back and into the crimson upholstery. Cor’s face was carefully blank as he threw the sword behind him, ignoring the deafening sound of it crashing against the floor a story below in the same way he was ignoring the piercing cries of those he’d left outside. He reached forward, catching her son, older than she’d last seen him, as his lifeless body slumped forward without the support of the sword that had kept him upright.

This throne room was in ruins. Some sort of explosion had taken out the left side of the room, letting the mid-morning light in through the massive hole in the domed ceiling. She’d been carefully avoiding returning to _this_ Insomnia, especially after the Fall and counted herself lucky that she’d been mostly ignorant of the destruction that had reigned down upon her home.

(She and Odessa had spent the day it happened watching as souls popped into their plane from the very top of the Citadel, agreeing by unspoken pledge to remain where they were until it was over. Aulea was sure her grip on Odessa’s hand had been punishing, but the other woman hadn’t complained.

Later, she's been unable to stop Odessa from searching for Clarus and through the grip she’d had on the other woman’s arms she’d been transported along with her to the carnage of the Great Hall. She’d had to drag Odessa away, whispering reassurances that she would see him soon when her frantically searching eyes had finally found him, far above their heads.

Odessa had returned the favor when they’d found Regis, crumpled and alone in the lower levels of the palace.)

Aulea thought she was prepared for what she was seeing, she’d known what was to befall her son before Regis had after all, but she could not quite believe it was real. She could not believe it was _her_ son being carefully gathered in the Marshall’s arms, _her_ son who was still somehow bleeding, _her_ only son, whose blood now forever tainted the entire, cursed room. _Her_ son, butchered for a prophecy he had not known, murdered for sins he did not commit. 

There was a wail building in the back of her throat, growing in pitch as Cor brought Noctis closer to her, wholly ignorant of her presence. He passed her by without pausing, giving her only a moment to take in her boy’s pale, bruised skin, covered in dirt from some sort of massive struggle. The way he was practically swimming in his formal wear; his face, his beautiful face, lax in a death that had come too soon.

Her ears were ringing, blocking out the echo of Cor’s seemingly exhausted steps as he carefully picked his way around the rubble on the stairs. Her eyes were glued to Noctis’s face from where it had slipped from the shelter of Cor’s arms and flopped like a ragdoll with every step he took.

He looked just like Regis.

She turned her attention then, called to her husband by duty now, and forced herself to resist the urge to rush after Cor. There was nothing she could do for Noctis now, for he was no longer _here_. Not in this Gods forsaken world. Now, he shared the same world as her, the same world as her husband. It was only then, as she took the hardest step of her afterlife, away from Cor’s retreating back that she realized that the ringing in her ears was not the pounding of her heart overwhelming her senses, but instead a stomach churning shriek, originating from Regis.

“Regis.” She breathed, but he could not hear her. She suspected he could not hear anything at all. She approached slowly, afraid he would again flee from her and sank to her knees before him, beyond thankful for that the blood that soaked that dark carpet and clung to Cor’s boots could not touch her.

“Regis.” She said, gripping his shoulders. But he only screamed harder, the rawness of it reminiscent the dying screams of a grievously wounded animal. Despite the sound tearing from his throat, he was completely still, frozen in his grief. It was his eyes though, that sent her heart rocketing into her throat, as they were burning a fierce fuschia that indicated he was communicating with the Astrals.

“Regis, my love.” She soothed, scooting forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders and tuck his head against her neck. Unconsciously, his hands reached out and grabbed  fistfuls of her gown. It was all she needed to transport them both back to the garden and away from the horror of scene before them.  

He fell silent as soon as they arrived as he listed forward bonelessly, his weight was too much for her to fully catch and she carefully eased him to his back in the grass.  She gently began calling his name and running her hands through the salt and pepper strands at his temples, the same gesture she used to ease his near constant headaches with before she'd been ripped from him. Aulea seen something like this before, back when he had first cast the Wall over Insomnia and the strain of it had been too much. The Ring had only granted him enough time to retire to their rooms before he buckled into a motionless heap in the center of their plush, floral rug. She hadn’t been able to rouse him for hours, his eyes open and unseeing, burning with some otherworldly fire as he gazed beyond their realm to something or someone far, far away.

She’d had to call for Clarus then, as she’d been unable to lift him and unwilling to let him remain on the floor. With his cold, clammy skin and the embroidered flows surrounding his body, it looked too much like a coffin.

“Aulea!” Odessa’s voice had a tendency to carry, and the Queen snapped her head up to lock watery eyes with Odessa’s panic stricken eyes. Less than a step behind her was Clarus, the wrinkle between his brows even deeper than normal as he lengthened his stride to overtake his bride to crouch by Regis’s side.

“What happened? Where did you go?” Odessa gasped.

“The t...throne room and… Noctis.. It had to have been Regis… the prophecy had to be fulfilled, but..” Aulea stuttered for the first time in years, lost at how to describe the awful truth of what she’d seen.

“Later, your Majesty.” Clarus said, as gentle as she’d ever heard the rumble of his voice. “For now, let us try to get Regis to join us in the land of the… dead.”

Aulea was able to crack a smirk through her stressed tears at how Clarus fumbled the metaphor; Odessa simply smacked his arm.  

“He came out of it before on his own-”

“When you died, it took a lot longer.” Clarus interrupted. He’d stood and automatically fallen into parade rest in his unease and kept his eyes on Regis’s blank expression. “It was Noctis’s cries the roused him last.”

Aulea’s face crumpled and she gathered Regis’s head to rest in her lap and moved her hands to rub circles against the coarse hair on his cheeks.

When Aulea had awoken in the Beyond, it had taken her days to find anyone else in the Citadel. Just when the isolation was beginning to wear on her, Odessa had found her and explained what she knew of the rules of their new home.  If one wished to be alone, they were alone, if they wished for company, they could find it. Most importantly, if one concentrated hard enough, it was possible to step for a time through the veil into the world they’d left behind. By the time Aulea managed to find her way back to her family's side, Noctis was a babbling toddler and Regis was aging faster than she’d ever thought possible.

“We have nothing but time now.” She whispered. “But I know the children… the children are here. I can feel them.”

Odessa nodded, obviously attempting to hide her own excitement out of respect for the situation and laced her fingers through Clarus’s. Clarus squeezed his wife’s hand and brought her hand to his lips.

“Come, Odessa, let us find Gladiolus. And remember, Aulea, time is different here. Noctis will not be able to tell the difference if you went to him now or if you went to him a year from now.” Clarus bowed his head, and gently tugged an apologetic Odessa away with a promise to return later.  She nodded thankfully and waved Odessa off as she glanced over her shoulder towards the Queen.

“Regis my love, come back to me.” Aulea whispered, pressing her lips to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks. “Return so we can greet our son, together.”

Regis’s eyes began to flicker, the deep pink fading to the honey brown of her memories in patches.

“Shall I be jealous of whoever you're speaking to? I cannot believe I’ve waited so long to be ignored. Who tempts you so? Is it Leviathan? Shiva? Bahamut?” Aulea tried for old jokes, blasphemous words tossed under her breath in the middle of dark nights, and what had been her best attempts to break his legendary composure during court meetings.

Regis blinked, once, twice, swam back into consciousness to drowsily take stock of his surroundings. She knew the transition must have been jarring, from the macabre scene of the throne room, to wherever he had gone after, and now to her bright and beautiful garden. He flexed his fingers, plucking a strand of thick bladed grass and tilted his head to watch the sunlight filter through the trees above them before his gaze finally focused on her face. He searched her eyes upside down, vacant expression cracking under her gaze, before tears abruptly began to spill from his eyes.

“There he is..” She breathed and closed her eyes. She folded further around him, letting the tension drain from her shoulders, at least, until he spoke again.

“I accept any punishment for my indefensible crime, but I pray thee, do not deliver it with the face of my queen.” Regis pleaded, and Aulea’s heart seized in her chest with the realization that Regis did not believe that he’d joined her in the Beyond.  He did not attempt to move, but his entire body had stiffened and her heart tore further when she recognized that he was bracing himself for some terrible blow.

“Have you already forgotten?” She asked, “For now into eternity, you are mine and I am yours, in _this-_ ”

“-or.. or any other world.” He finished their wedding vows unthinkingly, the gravel in his voice thick with pain.

“Aulea, _Gods._  How can you be here? I- I shouldn’t...” His hands reached up and briefly brushed against her own before he let them thump to the ground.

“How can.. How can I ever expect you ever forgive me for what I have done?” He covered his face with trembling hands, trying to hold himself in check even now. His figure aged before her eyes, shifting from the dark haired king she’d last seen sobbing over her to the greyed, grim King that Clarus had told her about, his youth stripped from him by his deadly inheritance.

“How can I forgive you when you have done nothing to forgive?”

“Aulea.” His breath rattled around a sob as he attempted to breath deeply. “Aulea… I..”

“I know, I saw.” Regis’s frail shoulders curled in as he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, unable to quiet the sob that worked it’s way through his clenched teeth.

“I have had nothing but time since I arrived.” She restarted her ministrations on his cheeks, wishing there was something more she could do to ease his trembling. “I did my best to keep an eye on my boys. I saw when he was Chosen and I knew what it would ultimately mean. I read the entirety of our library, everything in Eos that I could that dealt with the prophecy…”

“You asked of me one thing, _one thing,_  to protect him- and I was… I was the one… I had to be the one to…” He bit his lip in an attempt to restrain the pained whimper that escaped at the end of his confession, but the bite healed before a single drop of blood was able to leave his lips.

“I killed him.” The truth blew open the floodgates on the despair he was trying so hard to shackle, and he screamed, the agony in the sound so strong that Aulea shifted so she could wiggle her arms beneath him and press her weight into his chest. “I killed-! I killed my-!”

Aulea did not attempt to soothe him as he lost himself to his despair; he deserved to grieve for what had been lost, for the unfairness of it all. He’d held it all in for so long, so tied to the idea that he would be ungrateful to curse his station, so obsessed with his duty, that she was surprised he’d made it as far as he had without snapping.

(When Aulea had finally finished her research, high in the tower of the royal Tenebraen library, she’d allowed herself to weep for the first time since she arrived. She’d isolated herself for a long time, watching the sun rise and set over the palace’s fields of sylleblossoms and she screamed and raged, a whirlwind of pain personified, until she only had the energy to return herself home to her favorite garden. She’d allowed Odessa to find her then, and the fair haired huntress had simply settled beside Aulea where she lay on her back in the grass, silently watching the sun and the moon chase each other about the sky for what must have been days.)

Eventually, Regis began to quiet, his sobs reducing themselves to pitiful hiccups that rocked his now thirty year old body. Aulea sat up, bracing her hands on either side of his chest and pressed a chaste, hopefully comforting, kiss to his lips. As always, he immediately pressed up into her and his hands found her waist, his touch feather light and hesitant.

“What must I do,” She asked, pulling back, “To convince you that everything is alright?”

“I…” Regis paused again, voice still raw, before bring his hand up to reverently trace the edges of her face. “Time, I suspect.”

“Luckily, there is nothing but time here. But I confess, I am eager to meet my son.” She tried again for a smile and pressed her cheek firmly into his hand, but the flabbergasted look that crossed his features pulled an unexpected laugh from her chest, ruining her attempts at benevolence  “We are all here together, you, me, Clarus, Odessa, the young Lunafreya, Cid… and Noctis. He waits for us to greet him, love.”

Regis turned his eyes back to the canopy above them, blinking back tears as he followed the branches that swayed lightly in the breeze.

“I am afraid.” He whispered after a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I fear he will hate me for what I have done… or worse… fear me.”

“Give him more credit, he knew his duty, his fate, as well as you knew yours. Now, my love, light of my afterlife, I will be denied my reunion with my son no longer. Get. Up.” Auela sprung to her feet, careful of the endless fabric of her gown and offered her hand to Regis. He stood with a small amount of difficulty, nearly toppling over as he put too much weight on his left foot and not nearly enough on his right.

“How do we find him?” Regis asked, lacing his fingers through hers. His voice was still uncertain, but she paid his hesitance no mind and pulled him bodily forward through the Citadel’s winding hallways towards its lobby.

“Think of him, hold him in your mind’s eye. Reach for him with your heart.” She instructed, her pace quickening as the light at the end of their hallway revealed more and more of the marble splendor of the main lobby. She imagined the face she spied when he’d rescued Odessa’s youngest child, all round cheeks and gunmetal blue eyes. She allowed the memory of her tiny, squalling baby boy in her arms to fill her heart; summoned the image of her unruly teenager at play with his blond haired friend in Insomnia’s arcades.

There was a figure standing with his back turned in the middle of the lobby staring up at the massive murals adorning the walls. A prince, _her prince, dressed_  in his fatigues, bathed in a light so strong it made his hair appear blue.

Beside her, Regis’s steps faltered as he spotted the boy, and she watched as his youth smoothly dripped from him. His old kingly raiment materialized over his rapidly thinning body and his right leg stiffened as his gait changed due to his memory at how he'd once hobbled, as opposed to any real injuries. But as his foot came down on the marble, his golden leg brace clanged into existence like an announcement in the absolute silence of the room.

Noctis spun about, his face a painting of hope.

“Dad” He breathed, tension draining from his body. “...Mom?” He didn’t know where to look as he took several hesitant steps forward.

Hands still intertwined, Regis and Aulea closed the gap and threw their arms around him.

“Welcome home, my son.”


	2. Pryna Loves Prompto Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was something cold and wet against his palm, too cold to be blood and it was… moving?  
> Prompto blinked his eyes rapidly, disoriented as his vision unfolded to reveal a white dog pressing insistently against his hand and whining. 
> 
> “Chibi?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aulea and Prompto and a little bit of Noctis?

There was something cold and wet against his palm, too cold to be blood and it was… moving?

Prompto blinked his eyes open, disoriented as his vision unfolded to reveal a white dog pressing insistently against his hand and whining.

“Chibi?”

The dog barked once, seemingly in confirmation, and jumped to press her front paws into his leg. He automatically reached out to scratch just behind her ears, beyond confused and beginning to edge towards panic.

What the hell happened? Where was he? How did he get here? _Here_ , of course, being slumped against the railing of the balcony of Noct’s old apartment, still dressed in his Crownsguard uniform that was beginning to become a bit too warm in the heat of the rising Insomnian sun.

Sun?

Ah, that’s right.

He remembered.

He remembered the bone deep exhaustion that had allowed the MT to get just a hair too close, even over Gladio’s frantic shout of warning.  He’d been just a moment too late to avoid the blow, even though he’d sent a bullet through the thing’s mask, just a second too slow to miss the jarring thud of its weapon that sent an alarming feeling of numbness percolating through his body. He remembered falling against the steps of the Citadel and pulling out his camera… checking to make sure it wasn’t damaged, firing off a few sloppy support shots... falling asleep.

No.

Not asleep.

Then everyone was there, flanking their King in the swirling blue and purple abyss of _somewhere_ , but the battle wasn’t finished and he was ready to go, ready to keep fighting because Noct was still there, but then… what had happened?

Pryna, seemingly unsatisfied with anything less than his undivided attention threw the entirety of her body into his chest to lick at his face, whining low and sad. It was enough to snap him back to the present.. Or wherever he was and he buried gloved fingers into the scruff of her face to rub his forehead into her fluff.

“Where are we, huh? Do you know, girl?” He was muttering nothings into her fur, a little more overwhelmed but when he glanced up to check his wrist out of habit...It was gone.

No barcode.

“We’re dead, aren’t we Chibi.” Pryna barked sharply, just once, and leapt back, eliciting an ‘oof!’ as she used his stomach as a springboard and grabbed onto his pant leg to tug at him. With care, Prompto climbed to his feet and spent a long moment ignoring her fierce tugging at his pant leg to survey the intact skyline of Insomnia.

It was picture perfect, exactly as his dreams remembered it. No rubble, no demons, no scattered bones in the streets. There was sunlight bouncing off uncracked windows, neon signs flashing with life. Even the cactuar street signs were operational, directing traffic in a ghost town. If it wasn’t for the fact that the place was completely deserted, he would have had no trouble dismissing the last ten years as a soda and junk food induced fever dream. But the place was utterly, eerily silent, save the the sound of birdsong and of the wind rustling through the trees.

Pryna gave a particularly hard tug and Prompto heard the sound of his pants ripping. He remembered Noct saying once that Pryna and Umbra were more than mere dogs and he figured that it was probably be in his best interest to follow her, lest he loose his pants.

“Ok, ok, lead the way!”

Noct’s apartment appeared to be exactly as they’d left it. Clean, spartan, and lavishly decorated. There was not a spec of evidence of any sort of habitation, no candy wrappers, Ebony cans. No shoes by the door or the jackets thrown over the kitchen chairs. It was as vacant as the rest of the city. 

Pryna took off at a sprint as soon as Prompto opened the apartment’s door and he had no choice but to follow. On the way down the stairs, Prompto ditched his Crownsguard jacket in an attempt to not overheat and did not regret it as Pyrna continued to dash through the center of empty streets. Her pace didn’t allow him to look too closely at anything as he was afraid he’d lose her, but as they began to wind their way to the center of the city, Prompto had a pretty good idea of where they were going.

The Citadel rose up before them, the city’s solemn cornerstone, absent the guards and Glaives that had dotted that grand set of stairs years back. Only now did Prompto let himself pause, noticing absently that he was in no way out of breath despite the fact that he’d just sprinted full out for at least a mile. Ghost perks, he figured.

The stairs were flawless; as crisp and clean as if they’d just been built, free of rubble and the scars of their final battle. The fountain was intact as well, even though he very clearly remembered Ifrit destroying its already crumbled ruins. There were no drag marks in the concrete from the army of Iron Giants that had descended upon them after Noctis had… after Noctis had left them.

Where was the bloodstain from where he fell? Pryna didn’t rush him as he slowly made his way up the stairs, searching for the exact spot where he… where he’d died. Prompto cringed as he realized he’d been the first of the group to fall. 

“Classic… amiright?” He sighed. Pryna weaved her way through his legs and darted up the remaining stairs, apparently having decided that he’d done enough reminiscing. Prompto followed at a more restrained clip, again slowing as he pushed open the Citadel’s grand doors and took a moment to check for changes in the murals lining the lobby. 

As expected, there were none. It looked the same as it had on the few occasions he’d been in the Citadel, foreboding and grim despite the near blinding sunlight. In his mind’s eye, he could see the last time he was there, choking back tears as Noctis took his time selecting  a picture to take with him. To take to his death.

Which of course begged the question of just where the _fuck_ was he? He glanced down at Pryna, who’d again sat at his feet, tongue lolling and tail waving back and forth like a metronome and figured that he couldn’t possibly be in hell if she was there.

All dogs go to heaven, right?

“He took a picture of all of us, you know.” He said out loud, his voice echoing along the tall ceilings. “I don’t think he thought he’d see us again… wherever he went.”

Pryna of course, did not answer. He glanced down and felt his heart take a swan dive into his shoes as he noticed that she was no longer beside him. Her name was on the tip of his tongue when he finally spotted her just behind him. She was sniffing at the air down one of the countless corridors, her tail a stiff, fluffy flag. He jogged over to join her, but she didn’t spare him a glance as she began to run down her chosen path, nails click-clacking against the marble.

Prompto was almost immediately lost as Pryna banked left, then right, then left again, deep within the guts of the palace. He ran past points in the castle where, in life, he surely would be been clotheslined and arrested for even glancing at. Another left turn and Prompto’s eyes were assaulted with light from his right as the walls abruptly  turned to floor to ceiling windows bordering the gardens that made up the back of the Citadel.

Pryna suddenly let out a series of excited barks as she turned right and out of the only set of double doors that were wide open.

“I’m right behind you!” He replied, kicking his legs even harder as she somehow, impossibly, sped up. “But I’m a person, not a dog! Two legs versus four, dude!”

Pryna still did not reply.

Instead, Prompto almost plowed at full speed into the first person he’d seen all day. His eyes had been glued to the dog but when deep sapphire fabric entered his narrowed field of vision he looked up, alarmed to see a woman bent down to greet the pup. The shock of another human sent several conflicting signals to his legs and he tripped over himself to tumble like a newborn foal to the ground.

He rolled  to a stop on his back, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, suddenly panting and dizzy enough that he almost felt like puking. Almost.

“Hello, Prompto.”

The woman’s face was suddenly spinning above him and he blinked in surprise at just how familiar she looked. Auburn hair was spilling over her shoulders as she settled to sit beside him, her amused smile splitting her face and she offered her hand to help pull him upright.

“Hi. I... don’t think I know you? I’m sorry.” He tried, looking closer at her.

She couldn’t have been older than forty, there were only faint crows feet where she was looking him over, a distinctly motherly vibe emanating from her cobalt eyes. It was the same look that Ignis used to get whenever he and Noct would stumble back into the apartment as teenagers, giggling like fools over the day, as if he were searching for injury.

There was a bell suddenly ringing in the back his mind, buried deep in memory.

“That’s alright, I was gone before you made it to the city.” Her voice was light, airy, and kinder than he seemed to be expecting.

The ringing was getting louder.

“I’m sorry.” He said reflexively.

“Don’t be.” She soothed, brushing her hair back behind her ear. The sun glinted off something in her hair and he took in the golden crown, its shape a single, twisted horn, with growing suspicion. King Regis wore a crown exactly like it in silver. “I was still able to look in on you and Noctis from time to time. He is so very fond of you, I’m so happy he was able to make friends with such a good person.”

Realization hit him like a sledgehammer. He’d seen her face before, countless times. He’d spent the best years of his life staring into the eyes she’d passed the color down to. Her picture sat in a simple silver frame in Noctis’s apartment, sitting on the right hand bedside table besides an old crystal figurine of Carbuncle. He’d even commented on it once, embarrassing the hell out of himself in the process.

(“Who’s the hottie?” He’d joked, snatching the picture from the table to wiggle at Noct. The prince had twitched, seeming to resist the urge to grab it back and instead leveled Prompto with a frigid glare.

“My mom.”)

“Queen Aulea!” Prompto choked on his own spit and fumbled to his feet, rushing to do his best impersonation of Ignis’s perfect bow. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty!”

Noctis clearly got his laugh from her as well, clear and light as a bell. She elegantly rose to her feet, brushing the grass he’d kicked on her to the ground as she stood.

“You apologize a lot, did you know that, my boy?” She teased. Prompto lowered his bow, bent perfectly in half as he stammered, attempting to come up with a reply that wasn’t another apology.

“Stand up and let me have a look at you.” She instructed, placing a hand on his shoulder. Prompto did as he was asked, eyes wide with confusion.

“Have you found the others yet?” She asked, now clasping both of his shoulders in her thin hands. Prompto shook his head, mind a mess of questions and further apologies. She clicked her tongue in disapproval and patted his shoulder once. With gentle pushes, she moved him, inspecting him from head to foot before she reached out to grab his right wrist and twist it from side to side.

“I’m glad to see this has gone. It pained me to see the distress it caused you.” She said, smiling a little sadly. She dropped his wrist and returned her hands to his shoulders.

“I’m so proud of you, my son.” Her smile was bright, and Prompto could not help but see a bit of Noctis in the expression.

“I’m.. I…” He stuttered, confused by her doting even as he basked in it. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, and knew that even the tips of his ears were alight. So much for a dignified afterlife.

“None of that. You may not be my blood, but you are mine. You and Noctis, Ignis and even Gladio, you are mine.” She declared and pulled a shellshocked Prompto forward and into her arms.

Perhaps this _was_ heaven after all, he thought, especially when he felt Pryna brush against him. But Pryna’s head was suddenly far higher than it should have been, brushing at the small of his back instead of the backs of his knees and Prompto opened his eyes, unaware he’d let them slipped closed, to find that he now had his face buried in the Queen’s stomach.

“Wha?” He backpedaled, horrified that he’d been cursed as the shrinking feeling was usually the first sign of being turned into a damn frog, but he tripped over Pryna and landed hard on his butt.

“What the hell?” His voice was too high, his legs to short, and when he looked down he saw the swell of his stomach beneath his old favorite t-shirt. The shirt he always wore when he was ten. “What? No!”

“Be calm.” Aulea smiled, but there was a tightness to it that Prompto didn’t quite know what to do with. She reached out and grabbed him beneath his armpits to hauled him back to his feet before crouching before him, one hand absently brushing his hair out of his panic stricken eyes. He poked at his suddenly chubby cheeks, his breaths growing short and desperate. How the hell was he a kid again?

“It’s alright, my dear. Here, you can look however you wish to, but strong emotions can easily change your appearance. Look, watch me.” To demonstrate, Aulea thought back to when she’d first met Regis so many years ago. The way he’d smiled at her from over the rim of a wine glass. She thought back to when he snuck her up to the roof of the Citadel, past glaives whom she knew now were well aware of their prince’s plans to dazzle her with the city lights at night.

Before Prompto’s eyes, the fine wrinkles around the Queen’s eyes and mouth faded and the strands of silver interspersed in hair hair disappeared as it shimmered into a complicated updo on the side of her head. Her crown disappeared, as did her gown, leaving her barefoot in a deep purple sundress.

“We’re dead. Gods … we’re really… where are we? Where is everyone else? I mean, King Regis died, so did Gladio’s dad. Cid passed too, before the Dawn. And... Noc-” Prompto struggled to say the most painful name of all, the knowledge of his predestined death still as raw as when Noctis had first told them.

“They’re here with us in the Beyond.” Aulea said and Prompto pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Aulea opened her arms, allowing Prompto to throw himself into them.

“It’s alright.” She ran her fingers through his blonde locks and pressed her cheek to the top of his head as he openly wept into her shoulder. “Everything is alright now, Prompto.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.” Prompto’s sobs were quiet, crafted by a lifetime of hiding pain. But his entire body shook with them, sending earthquakes of sorrow through Aulea as he loosed a landslide of apologies interspersed with small, pitiful, gasping breaths. “I’m so sorry. We.. we tried so hard to protect him, we really did. And we didn’t know.. We didn’t know about the ambush or we would have come back! I’m sorry!”

“Prompto.” Aulea pulled the boy from her shoulders and the sight of his small, distraught face nearly broke her resolve, but she could not allow him, or anyone, to place the blame for Noctis’s fate upon themselves. “Do not apologize for things you have no control over. What came to pass was carved in a stone far beyond our reach, by powers who pay our wishes little mind. What’s important is that you stood by him. You fought for him, sweet thing. You _died_ for him. All so he could fulfill his destiny.” Her voice was firm, brooking no argument, and Prompto’s interruptions died on his trembling lips.

“I watched you when he was gone, when the world was plunged into darkness. You fought bravely… if not a little recklessly, to protect that world. You have always done what is right; it is why you are here now.” Prompto looked guilty at the grass as Aulea called him on the devil-may-care philosophy he’d adopted early into the Eternal Night and did not look at her until she forced him to with a finger under his chin.

“You did so well, and for it you are rewarded. Now. If you’d like, if you’re ready, I can take you to see Noctis.” Her crown reappeared over her ear as she shifted back into her older self, the hem of her gown flowing over her knees to bunch up at Prompto’s feet.

“Please! But… how do I-? Um, I don’t wanna be a kid anymore.” There was a whine in his voice but Aulea simply laughed and began to lead him back towards the breezeway with a guiding hand on his shoulder.

“The key is memories. Remember what it felt like to stand beside him, to laugh with him.” She said. Pryna trotted along beside Prompto and pushed her head under his hand, using her body to keep him away from colliding with columns as he lost himself to the thought.

What did it feel like stand beside him?

Like home, he supposed. Like belonging. He’d never felt more normal than when he was able to walk side by side with Noctis, their shoulders brushing together companionably. He remembered the first time he ever beat Noctis to the apartment after he’d unceremoniously given him the key, and finding Ignis there. Ignis who was so used to Prompto’s presence that had didn’t even ask how he’d gotten in, just offered him a bottle of water while they waited. He remembered a conversation on a motel rooftop, beachside models, destroying him at a game of darts. Prompto let that warmth fill his chest, concentrated hard on the fierce love he held for that sleepy, cursed prince and he suddenly found himself looking down, instead of up, at Queen Aulea.

“You’re a natural.” She beamed, and Prompto reexamined himself in the closest window. He was younger now, maybe twenty and dressed in his heavily customized Crownsguard fatigues. Another subtle check of his wrist confirmed that the barcode was still gone.

“Just through here, I suspect.” Queen Aulea announced, linking her arm through his; Prompto automatically adjusted to support her arm, preening under her heavy affection. Sometime during his musings she’d lead him to the upper, residential levels of Citadel, down hallways paneled in dark wood and portraits of past rulers of Lucis. There was large set of glass double doors propped open near the end of the hall, but as he strained his ears he could hear nothing from inside. They approached nearly silently, the Queen’s footsteps silent as she had apparently left her shoes back in the garden, and Prompto’s due to his thick rubber soles. It allowed them to arrive unnoticed, so as they rounded the door, they found Noctis lounging on Lunafreya, his head in her lap as she read leaning against the back of an over-sized chaise lounger. Lunafreya had one hand tangled in his hair, twirling her pale fingers around the black strands. From the number of twists adorning his head, they’d been there for a while.

“Noctis, my son. Look who I found!” Aulea announced, using the hand not resting on Prompto’s arm to gesture towards him as if he were some sort of grand prize. Noctis’s eyes slid towards them, blinking back whatever daydream he’d been lost in. Lunafreya’s smile was just a dazzling as Prompto had always imagined, but he only had a split second to take it in before his vision was overtaken by Noctis as he threw himself bodily into him. Both boys went down in a heap as  Luna and Aulea’s laughter lit up the room. Pryna bounded to Luna’s side and sat at her feet, tail wagging as if to say, ‘Look at what I did!’

“Prompto! What the hell are you doing here?” Noctis demanded once he’d released him. Prompto sat up and slapped Nocti’s shoulder, a quick glance over the prince’s shoulder revealed that Luna, Aulea and Pryna had slipped away, leaving them both alone.

“Sorry to crash your afterlife party, bro.” He grimaced, rubbing the back of his head.

“That’s- That’s not what I meant... I.. All of you? All of you though?” Noctis had his hands fisted in the fabric of his fatigues, glaring daggers at the carpeting as if his gaze alone could catch it on fire.

“We all knew that was probably going to happen, man, I mean, you didn't see the nasties that popped up after you left. It’s all good.” Prompto said, but Noctis refused to lift his head at Prompto's reassurances. 

“Ignis and Gladio, they told me what happened... how you... how they died? But when you didn’t show up and we wouldn't find you I hoped… I hoped you’d made it somehow.”

“And leave you here with those lame-os, are you kidding? Rob you of a five-star character on King's Knight?” Prompto placed his hand over his chest with a melodramatic cry, gripping his wounded heart. Prompto could see the edge of a smirk from beneath Noctis’s fringe and he reached out to rest his hand on his shoulder. “Leave my brothers? You know me better than that.”

Noctis sat back on his heels and trained his eyes on the ceiling, hands upturned in his lap.

“Yeah, I do.” He shook his head and freed the tears he’d been trying to force back, mouth twisted in a bitter smile.

“Good, then you know you need to show me the kitchen. I’m starving.” It was a lie, but Noctis accepted the change of subject with an exasperated shake of his head. Prompto jumped to his feet and threw Noctis his best megawatt smile. Noctis clambered to his feet and threw his arm around Prompto's shoulder at the same time as Prompto looped his own around Noct's waist. 

“I can do you one better, I can show you Ignis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading and THANK YOU THANK YOU for popping a comment below if you feel so inclined.  
> <3


	3. Mama Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or 
> 
> Aulea Suffers No Astrals 
> 
>  
> 
> ______________________  
> Thank you so much for your comments everyone! I can't say enough how much I feed off of that feedback! I don't have Beta so any mistakes (grievous typos really, I only ever see them when I re-read it on mobile it seems) are 100000% my own.

“So he just turns, without warnin’ anyone and shoves Reggie clear off the cliff-”

“For Gods sake! I was _fif-fucking-teen_ and _poisoned_!” Cor shouted to the table, fingers spread in exasperation as he shook them both at Cid.

“The stinger barely scratched you. Mild bleeding, at most-” Clarus interrupted, his usually gruff voice laced with laughter.

“Fifteen! And! Poisoned!” Cor looked beseechingly to Aulea, but she was too busy basking in how Noctis, Prompto, Ignis and Gladio were gasping for breath between their helpless, fully body cackling to notice. Odessa caught her eye and tilted her head towards Luna, whose own, warm  expression match their own. The three women shared wide , content smiles and tilted their wines glasses to the center of the table in a silent toast.

“Your copious tears were apology enough, my friend.” Regis laughed, slapping his hand on the polished cherry wood as he struggled to avoid choking in Ignis’s fine meal.  

Outside, a fierce thunderstorm roared through the city, sending curtains of rain crashing against the windows in their new dining room. Collectively they decided to move the dining room downstairs as to take full advantage of the bay windows and the breathtaking view of the gardens. The boys had understandably grown quite fond of the sun, and could often be found basking about in it’s rays like a group of oversized kittens.

Early in the afternoon great storm clouds had moved in, blocking their favorite star and sending deep rumbles of thunder to shake the portraits on the wall.

“Reminds me of when we had to find all those trees.” Noctis had sighed, his chin resting on his hands as he stared out at the the rapidly darkening storm front.

“He was my favorite, besides Shiva… for obvious reasons.” Luna had replied.

Aulea was paused in the doorway of the library, two mugs of tea gripped in her hands as she shamelessly eavesdropped on the pair. The dogs had joined them, as per usual, with Pyrna sitting next to Luna and Umbra beside her son as they lounged, feet in each other's laps, and stared at the incoming rain bands from the window seat.

“Gotta admit, they all kinda suck… besides Shiva. For obvious reasons.” Noctis said. Luna seemed to consider this, tilting her to the side in thought. A clap of thunder was immediately followed by a blinding lightning strike that lit the sky as if it were midday.

In that moment, and just for a second, Aulea spotted an oddly shaped figure stationed on the battlement just beyond the edge of the garden. It would have been easy enough to ignore, since the occasional glaive or staff member tended to pop up now and then, but Aulea had seen this figure before. It’s odd head and pointed shoulders had been appearing in the distance periodically, and with increasing frequency, since the boys had arrived.

“Ok.. maybe the Fulgarian too. He and Gentiana were the only ones who ever actually came to help.” He continued.

“Luna, my dear. Noctis, come away from the window before you catch cold.” Aulea smoothed her expression as she stepped further into the room and smiled brightly as the pair turned towards her in tandem.

"Ah, perfect, thank you Aulea.” Luna rose to her feet and accepted the mug with a smile and a kiss to Aulea’s cheek that the queen immediately returned, leaving a perfect impression of her lips in crimson on the girl’s pale cheek.

“I don’t think we can get sick, Mom. We’re dead.” Noctis said, but his smile was teasing as he took his mug. Aulea pressed her lips to his forehead and watched as his cheeks flashed pink, but he didn’t move to wipe her mark away. She delighted in these little moments, the fulfillment of her every motherly wish, and could have cried with how Noctis’s shoulders relaxed more and more with each demonstration of her love.

“Perhaps, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” She’d said, casting one last look out into the rain. Again, lightning cracked across the sky, but when she trained her eyes on the battlement, it was empty.

Later, Ignis had offered (prompted by Odessa’s not-so-subtle hint) to make dinner and the entire family, Cor and Cid included, had gathered around the relocated grand dining table and settled in to eat, drink and be generally merry, except Cor, who was being mercilessly teased by nearly everyone in the room. The storm shouted outside their windows louder and as strongly as ever as its center passed directly over the Citadel. Lightning illuminated the sky in rapid pulses, and Ignis echoed Noctis’s earlier sentiments.

“I must say, it does remind me of the trial of the Fulgarian.” He mused, reaching across the table to pull a bottle of twenty year old wine from Prompto’s over eager fingers.

“Hey!”

“Yeah it does,” Gladio nodded, completely ignoring the blonde as Ignis passed the shield the bottle, “Still thankful we didn’t have to fight him.”

“I daresay battle with Astrals is something that should, in general, be avoided.” Ignis set the bottle besides himself as Luna passed it, after having been given it by Gladio. Prompto made pathetic grabby hands at the bottle throughout its journey until Clarus set a full, uncorked bottle in front of him.

“Sir, you are the best Amicitia, nononono, the best, _male_ Amicitia.” Prompto was quick to correct himself in the face of Odessa’s raised eyebrow.

The sky erupted in light and for the upteenth time, Aulea spotted a figure atop of the battlements out of the corner of her eye. The time however, as the light persisted, she was clearly able to make out a dragon shaped helm, glinting armour and the detail that made her heart freeze within her chest.

Wings fashioned from massive blades.

“What do you see, my love?”

Aulea turned to Regis, eyes narrowed in confusion. Could he not see him? Regis’s curiosity smoothly shifted to concern as he leaned towards her in an attempt at privacy.

“You have been staring off into the distance lately. I first thought it was simply someone who does not wish to see the rest of us, but your expression… my dear, you look positively... hostile.” Regis said, but by that point it was too late. The rest of the table had fallen silent, looking between the former royals with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Since the boys arrived we’ve had a strange guest, a bird it seemed. Quite large...persistent. I’m honestly surprised _you_ haven’t seen it.” Aulea said evenly. She looked directly into his eyes, knowing that he would catch on immediately.

Regis rose to attention, fighting hard to keep his appearance young and free of the frown lines he could even now feel flickering across his forehead. It was only a lifetime of court training that kept his fingers from turning to claws around his silverware.

“Describe this bird to me.” He said, his voice was stern, low. The same voice he used when speaking to the Kingsglaive… or the war council. Aulea could have laughed had she not been so strung out herself.

“Upon closer inspection,” She continued, ignoring his tone to stand, “It is not a bird. It’s a _vulture._ ” There was a ferocity in her voice that she was not quite expecting of herself and at once she felt as though there was something like lightning humming just under her skin, powerful and fierce and itching to be used. The entire table shrank back, sensing the anger the likes of which they had never seen from her.

“Excuse me, I shall take care of it.” She nodded once  and prepared to move herself to the battlement when Odessa spoke up, voice uncharacteristically cautious.

“Are you in need of a weapon, dear? Shall I fetch my bow?” She offered a smile, but Aulea waved her off.

“I’ll come with you.” Gladiolus said as he stood, but he fell back in shock as the queen rounded on him.

“Be seated!” He dropped into his seat hard enough for the front legs of his chair to lift from floor before thudding down against the carpet.

“Mom?” Noctis tried but the warning in her expression was enough to silence him.

“Worry not, I’ll be back in a moment. Eat your spinach.”

Aulea then disappeared in a hail of tiny, luminescent crystals as the remainder of the group reluctantly restarted their meal.

“It… it isn’t really a vulture.. Is it?” Prompto ventured after a moment.

“No, Prompto.” Regis said, a strained smile on his lips, “I suspect it is not.”

Aulea appeared on the ramparts in the space of a breath, a portrait of restrained fury. Her emerald gown whipped about her in the gale and she was immediately soaked to the bone. 

“What can you possibly want.” She demanded, fearless in the face of the shining armour of the Draconian himself. He stood huge before her, easily nine feet tall and looked down with crossed arms and impassive eyes at the human beneath him. For a time he said nothing, but Aulea had grown up surrounded by men who wielded silence as a weapon and she stood tall in the face of the tired tactic.

“Do you know me, Queen of Lucis?” The voice rumbled like the thunder around them, sending tremors through the stones at her feet. His voice was all but toneless, but he would not have asked had he not been taken aback by her attitude.

“I know you; slayer of kings, killer of children. You! Who bestow curses and call them gifts. You! Who turns a deaf ear on his people and still has the audacity to call himself a god. I know who you are, Bahamut, and I will not repeat myself."  

Bahamut did not so much as twitch as she raged at him, but his form shrank until he was small enough to tower over her in the rough shape of a normal, if not massive, man. At this level, she could more clearly see the eyes under the helm and she glared into, them, struggling to keep her palms lax at her sides.

“You would dare raise your voice to me?” There was an echo to his voice, a ringing in the background that was almost metallic, and had she not thought him incapable, she would have thought he almost sounded surprised.

“You would dare approach my family after the destruction you have wrought on it?” She returned, hands now firmly planted on her hips, she could not control their trembling any longer and she did not want to so much as hint at fear. Her hair was beginning to fall from its updo, slipping from her head down her shoulders in uneven clumps, but she did not move to tuck it away.

“And who are you, to challenge my right to the Chosen?” He stepped forward, a single step, and the sound of his armour clamored louder than the sky above, but if there was threat in the sound, Aulea did not hear it.

“I am his _mother_.” She snarled. She stomped forward, two steps to his one and glared, teeth bared into the maw of the ornate helmet. “They belong to _me._  They are under _my_ protection here. They have done your bidding, fought your wars, fixed your mistake with death and blood and suffering. You already damned one of this line to an eternity of suffering for doing exactly what you asked of him, you _will not_ do it again. They are no longer yours to command.”

“My Queen,” Came a silky voice from behind her, and Aulea knew backup had arrived as Shiva, wearing her human disguise approached to chill the air beside her, “Your words grow heated.”

“Shiva.” Bahamut greeted, and Aulea let her lips curl into a smirk at the subtle confusion in the echo. The rain instantly froze as it fell against the Glacian and collected at her feet in small piles of glittering diamonds of ice.

“You have not seen heated, not yet.” Aulea said, “When I grow heated Ifrit will be cold in comparison.” She did not miss the smile that scampered across Gentiana’s lips.

“I should cast you out for such insolence; you forget your place.” The Draconian’s voice boomed, not one to be so outwardly mocked, for in a flash, he’d reached forward, clawed gauntlet flashing almost as brightly as the lightning.

Aulea threw her hands up and into a block and shifted her body sideways, just as Clarus had taught her. But the blow never came. Instead, she was forced to shield her eyes as something seemed to implode into the space between them, impossibly bright. But there was no shockwave, no pain.

“And you, Bahamut, forget yours.”

Gentiana dropped to one knee and Aulea could only gape as Bahamut did the same. She realized after a moment thst the light was coming from a woman standing with her back to her. Light was shining in visible rays from her skin, despite the fact that her skin appeared to be made of the night sky. Black as obsidian, it was covered in splatters of stars and swirling galaxies which shifted as if they were a part of a moving painting. Her gown was pure white and draped elegantly over her shoulders. It danced just above the ground, lighter than air, as if it were waiting for permission to take off in the wind.

“Aulea, have mercy on my child.”

The woman turned and pinned Aulea in place with crystalline fuchsia eyes. Despite their lack of any disconcernable pupil, she knew that she was being stared at, even as the multifaceted gems seemed to change color as lightning again lit up the sky. Where her lips should have been was a small colorless crystal, carved into the shape of a permanently benevolent smile.

“Um.” Aulea said elegantly.

“And Bahamut,” It was certainly the woman before her speaking, but Aulea wasn’t certain the woman was really _speaking_ at all. She could hear no other voice, and her crystal lips were utterly motionless. It was if the words were being projected into her mind and shaped from her own, inner voice.  “You shall leave _my_ chosen in peace, if that is what she wishes.” 

“By your command, Eternal Etro.” Bahamut's might voice no longer shook the stones, the power nullified by the being before him.

“From one mother to another, go in peace Queen of Lucis.”

At once, the lightning that had taken residence in her veins fled and Aulea felt as though she was falling up. Her stomach flipped flopped in protest and she clenched her eyes shut in order to resist the urge to vomit up roasted Galdin trevally in front of the Goddess.

“Aulea!” And that was Regis’s ‘I’m-not-panicking-you’re-panicking ‘ voice. Aulea cracked open one eye experimentally to a chorus of relieved sighs. Regis’s face blinked into view over massive sunspots that she struggled to blink away, but his eyes were focused in front him, glaring daggers into Gentiana’s eternally smiling visage. Her eyes were closed, hiding the intensity of her gaze from the family collected at her feet.

Aulea was only slightly surprised to find herself back inside, considering what had just happened. She was more impressed with the fact that she was somehow dry, and in a different gown, than the one she’d gone out in.

“In life, as in the Beyond, the Queen has collected powerful allies.” Gentiana said with a slow, subtle bow of her head. Luna climbed to her feet and smiled at her former guardian before speaking to her in a low, unheard voice.

“That was interesting.” Aulea breathed, and Regis dropped his glare to search her face. With a ragged exhale, he seemed satisfied with whatever he found and crushed her into his chest, filling her vision with black silk and ivory pinstripes.

“Do they always… disappear like that?” Cor asked warily. Luna let out a thoughtful hum.

“Yes, usually.” She confirmed. Noctis let out a grunt in agreement.

“Are we all just gonna ignore that fact that Queen Aulea’s eyes were glowing? Or?” Prompto asked.

“Oh my God, Prom, stop calling them that!” Noctis whined.

“Your Majesty,” Ignis said, Aulea could feel Noctis’s eye roll as he groaned, “I believe you may be suffocating the Queen.”  

Reluctantly, Regis released her and propped her up with her back against his chest. Finally free to look about, Aulea found that they were back in the dining room. The chairs were hastily shoved away from the table, and more than one wine glass was dripping crimson vintage onto the carpeting. Regis sat sitting with his back against the windows, his legs forming a protective walls on either side of her with his arms wound possessively around her waist. She could feel his heartbeat slowing to a more manageable pace against her back and she rested her hands atop where his were clasped at her stomach.

“What the hell was that all about?” Cid gripped; he was crouched next to Regis, but still held the slim neck of his beer bottle in one hand. He held his hat loosely in the other, letting it dangle from his fingertips. It must have quite the show if it robbed Cid of his hat.

“You scared the hell out of us, darling. Ya even had poor Noctis eatin’ his veggies.” Odessa agreed, absently reaching up and behind her from where she was leaning against the table leg. Without looking, Clarus reached up, grabbed a mostly full wine glass and handed it to his wife.

“A freakin’ miracle, do that more often.” Gladio laughed.

“Gladiolus.” Clarus snapped. Gladio balked so hard at his father’s tone that he flickered momentarily into a red faced teen.

Aulea weighted lying, afraid of inciting any kind of fear in her family, but considering what happened, their various scattered state on the floor and the fact that they were all already dead, she opted for the truth.

“I had a chat with Bahamut that grew a little… animated, however it appears as though Etro had about enough of her children’s destructive interference as I did.” Aulea leaned her weight more fully into Regis as she felt his arms tightened at the mention of the Draconian.

“Whoa! What! Nononono! Are you telling me that you _yelled_ at Bahamut?” Prompto’s voice rose so high it cracked. Noctis seemed more to share his father’s sentiment and inched closer to hesitantly set his hand on her ankle, and as much as she wanted to smirk that Prompto’s awed expression, she opted to smile at Noctis instead.

“Voices were raised, yes, but it’s alright.” She confirmed.

“You are a terror.” Regis breathed into her hair just above her ear, sending a pleased shiver down her spine.

“That’s why you married her.” Cid barked out a laugh. He slapped his knee as he stood and stretched a nonexistent crink out of habit.

“I still remember when she snuck off to go to the farmers market _the day after_ an assassination attempt, the one with the rubber masks." Clarus sighed, seemingly exhausted at the memory.

“Ooh, this sounds look a good one.” Gladio rumbled, pulling Noctis to his feet by the back of his collar.  

One by one, the group returned to the table, with Regis only releasing Aulea after the others were seated and Clarus was halfway through his story.

“My love, what happened out there?” Regis whispered, looking over her head at those gathered at the table. She glanced back outside, where the storm blew as strong as ever and shrugged.

“A conversation, as I said.” She turned and tugged him back to his seat. As he sat, she learned to whisper in his ear, “I’ll tell you later… if you behave yourself.”

She didn’t need to look to know the smirk that settled on his face.

“Aw, come on!” Noctis cried, “We’re eating!”

Aulea ignored her son in favor of slapping Clarus’s shoulder.

“I still stand by that I did not sneak anywhere. I walked right out the doors. It’s not my fault that the glaives did not see me.” Aulea chimed in as she plucked a bottle of champagne from Prompto’s hands.

“As I said,” Regis said, “She’s a terror.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading!  
> (And indulging me in my head cannon of Aulea taking no shit.)


	4. The Scientias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What! Why… why didn’t you say anything?” Prompto demanded. He awkwardly waved his camera in the air, movements limited from his prone position and fear of splinters. “Iggy! Ignis, buddy. You found your parents! That’s awesome, dude! Where are they? How did you find them? What are they like? Oh my Gods… I can’t even imagine! Don’t tell me, I wanna keep my headcanons. Nononono! Tell me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or
> 
> Prompto considers changing his name to Prompto 'Why Is Everyone Hugging Me' Argentum

“If we can just... dance back and forth between Here and There, what’s to say we can’t just like, jump back in time?” Prompto posed the question with a voice thinned by his own brilliance.

“That is not even remotely how it works.” Ignis intoned immediately.  

“How would you know, huh? Have you tried?” Prompto fired back, halfway between huffy and honestly curious. He rolled to his side to prop himself up on his elbows, supporting the entirety of his upper body with his back as he searched for the least likely place to give him splinters.

They’d driven down out to Duscae early that morning, reluctant to be in in the city on the anniversary of the Fall. In general, it was difficult to pay close attention to the exact date, as time seemed to speed up or slow down according to some unseen forces’s whims, but certain dates were hard to ignore.

It seemed as if the more people remembered the dead, the thinner the veil became. It made it easier, for example, for Gladio to spend hours watching over Iris and the kids as she, in turn, watched over Insomnia from the other side.

It brought out more people as well; the population swelled like the beach at high side. Usually, they could go about unseen, or mostly unnoticed, but on days like these, they seemed to glow. Noctis at least, had refused to remain in the city after last year’s fiasco, in which his short jaunt to the burger shop turned into an event to rival the hide-and-seek games he used to play when the paparazzi were out in force.

So, for the weekend, they’d decided to camp out at Lingagh Haven, an old favorite, and hike out to the nearest fishing spot. Gladio, unwilling to simply sit for however long Noctis was going to fish for, had taken off to run a few laps leaving Prompto and Ignis to sporadic bursts of conversation as Noct fell fully into wherever his mind went when he had his finger on the pulse of the line.

“My mother has put together a thorough collection of her findings-” Ignis trailed off as Prompto exploded into action, scrambling like a spider to flip himself over onto his stomach and crawl closer to Ignis over the worn, rickety dock.

“Your mom?” Prompto inhaled.

“When did you go find them?” Noctis asked, his back still turned to the pair as he kept his eyes on his bright pink bobber. On the other side of the pond, Gladio completed another lap.

“I supposed it was just after you and your father took your trip to Lestallum.” Ignis replied, Noctis hummed in response and recasted his line. The quite ‘bloop’ of the bobber hitting water brought Prompto back to life, as he had been silently glancing back and forth between Ignis and Noctis.

“What! Why… why didn’t you say anything?” He demanded. He awkwardly waved his camera in the air, movements limited from his prone position and fear of splinters. “You found your parents! That’s awesome, dude! Where are they? How did you find them? What are they like? Oh my Gods… I can’t even imagine! Don’t tell me, I wanna keep my headcanons. Nononono! Tell me!”

“Breathe, Blondie, Breathe.” Noctis finally turned his focused stare from the water’s perfectly still surface to Prompto. His form shifted as he moved, revealing a concerned, floppy haired teenager, dressed casually in his puffy vest and mismatched ballcap. He leveled a look full of meaning at Ignis, eyes bright under the shadow of his hat, and immediately returned to the twenty year old master angler as Prompto glanced back at him.

Prompto, as far as the group could tell, hadn’t managed, or at least, hadn't mentioned any contact with his “parents” since they arrived. Ignis used to the term ‘parent’ loosely after he’d reviewed the boy’s file after he’d first met the Prince, since the Argentums hadn’t seemed to have done any actual parenting after essentially abandoning an eleven year old to his own, spartan apartment and lonely days. Prompto’s biological father would not be found within their new world, according to Ignis’s mother, and as for his birth mother?

Well, they all remembered Gralea.

“It hadn’t come up and we’ve all been preoccupied.” Ignis said, but again, Prompto cut him off.

“Dude! _Parents_! Parents take priority! How are you not stoked, dude! Oh my Gods, let’s go see them!” He exclaimed, scrambling to his feet to glance between Ignis, Noctis, who’d by this point, pulled his line from the water, and Gladio, who’d just returned from his run, quietly panting as he attempted to figure out exactly what was going on.

The silence stretched for just a moment too far it seemed, and Prompto’s face drained of color as he suddenly backpedaled away from them all, nearly sending himself in the lake.

“I mean, we don’t have to, I… I mean, it took forever for _you_ to like me, I bet your parents would like.. Like _hate_ me, dude. Nevermind I said anything, my bad.” Prompto visibly dimmed, despite his apologetic grin, and threw his camera over his face, hiding behind the lens. Noctis openly glared at Ignis, gesturing roughly with his hand at how Prompto’s shoulders had collapsed as he snapped random photos.

Ignis, in Gladio’s words, felt like a _monster._

(“It’s necessary,” Gladio had bemoaned once upon a time into his third, tall golden beer. “If he’s going to come, he has to be ready, but every time I knock him down he bites his lip like he’s gonna cry or some shit… I feel like a fucking monster.”

Ignis had stared into his own dark ale and shrugged lightly.

“A necessary evil then.”)

“No. No Prompto, I don’t hesitate because they would not like you, I hesitate because they will love you; so much so that I fear that my mother will not let you leave.” Ignis stood, brushing stray wood crumbles from his trouser as he cautiously approached Prompto and placed his hand over the lens of his camera to push it down and away from his face.

“Oh!” Gladio said, tugging on his tanktop, “Oh, ok. I was confused. Yeah, Prompto, don’t worry. Iggy’s parents are going to kidnap you. Prepare yourself. His mom’s a hugger.”

Gladio threw his massive arm over Prompto’s shoulder, pulling the smaller man into his chest to rub his knuckles into the top of his head. After a moment of breathless struggling, Prompto let out a strangled, light-hearted laugh, and the others finally let out a relieved sigh as the sun returned to Prompto’s sky.

_______________

They decided against warping there and instead piled into the Regalia, Ignis behind the wheel as always, and took the long way round. Ignis needed no map, making the gentle turns as if he had the route memorized.

“Why did you move to Insomnia anyway?” Prompto asked, lifting his head from where he had it resting on his arms. Behind them, Noctis was a only a child, curled into a teenaged Gladio’s side, both fast asleep and tangled together across the seat. Ignis didn’t turn his eyes away from the road as he considered Prompto’s question, trying to find a way to answer that wouldn’t result in an apology.

“My town was attacked and absorbed by the Empire when I was seven, perhaps six. My parents were killed in the attack. I was able to escape with others in my household to Insomnia, wherein my Uncle took me in.” Ignis took a sip of Ebony and winced as Prompto let out a shrill sound of regret.

“Ohmygods. I’m so sorry, Ignis!” Prompto spun to press his back against the door, his eyes huge and bright in the frame of his flushed, freckled face. He regretted asking.

“Not to worry. It was a long time ago and now, I can see them whenever I wish.” Ignis said, briefly flicking Prompto a reassuring smile.

A glance in the rearview mirror meant Ignis locked eyes with an unexpectedly awake Noctis, who was staring him as if he’d been waiting to be noticed. He held Noctis’s solemn gaze for a moment longer than necessarily safe, seeing as the Regalia was still careening at 70mph around a smooth curve, but Noctis narrowed his eyes after a moment, before rolling them and settling back into the shelter of Gladio’s arms.

It certainly made sense. Noctis was the only one, perhaps beside his Uncle, that knew just how devastating the loss of his parents had been. Noctis, who had an innate ability to poke poke poke away at the cracks in Ignis’s near perfect mask of composure, who had seen through Ignis’s best attempts at mimicking his uncle’s professionalism. Noctis, who on their second meeting and first time being alone in each other’s company had wormed his way through said mask with an endless barrage of questions (“My mommy’s not here either. Where is yours? Is she gone too? Where is your dad? My dad is busy. Are they here? Will they come back?”) that had for the first time since the attack, sent Ignis into a fit of near inconsolable tears.

Noctis had never asked about his parents again.

“Shit dude, still sorry.” Prompto frowned, fiddling again with the settings on his camera. Ignis did not sigh, but it was a very near thing; this was the exact reason he avoided the subject.

“Again. No apologies necessary, now if you’d please attempt to to remove that look from your face.” Ignis instructed as he smoothly pulled off the highway and onto a long, unpaved driveway. It was lined with tall trees, all of which were blossoming with bright bunches of yellow flowers. “If my mother sees that expression she will fret for the remainder of the evening.”

But Ignis had no need to worry, as Prompto was clearly not listening. Instead, he had sat up, straining against his seatbelt with delight written plainly across his features as he reached out to snatch at the petals that swirled around the car as it breezed up the path. His camera lay forgotten in his lap as he turned to chatter excitedly to a now fully awake Gladio and Noctis.

Before them, Ignis’s childhood home rose up from between the fluttering trees. Two stories tall, covered in light wooden paneling it was surrounded by a sizeable garden and there, nestled between amongst towering tomato plants was a short, stocky man with the same light brown hair as Ignis tucked under a black visor. He was wearing a dark grey apron, covered in soil and bright green gardening gloves. He stood up slowly as the Regalia rolled to a stop and a slow, warm smile spread across his face as he took in the boys within.

“Hello Father.” Ignis greeted. A rare, wide grin split his face as his father removed his gloves, tucked them into the pocket of his apron and embraced his son. Ignis was easily a head taller than his father, but he folded about the man completely.

Prompto was beyond ecstatic. He pranced in place, tugging excitedly at Noctis’s sleeve and could not even stand at attention as Ignis unfolded his frame from his father and gestured to the gathered group.

“Father, this is Noctis, Gladio and Prompto.” Ignis introduced, but the knowing smile on his father’s round face indicated he knew full well who was standing before him. His eyes were  deep brown behind his thick, smudged glasses, and they shined with the same bright eyes amusement that Ignis’s did when he watched Noctis and Prompto’s shenanigans.

“Sir.” Gladio and Noctis said at once.

“Heyas!” Prompto exclaimed.

“A pleasure to finally meet you boys. Please, call me Ventus.” Ventus spoke in the same, dulcet tones of his son, although his accent was much more subtle.  He placed a hand on Ignis’s elbow and smiled.

“Your mother is upstairs, she’ll be ecstatic. Come, I was about to pull a coffee cake from the oven.” He motioned with the hand not resting on his son’s elbow for the crew to follow them through the bright red front door and into the sunny, open interior of the Scientia home.

Ventus kicked off his mud covered shoes and removed his apron in the entryway, hanging them on what appeared to be dedicated hooks mounted just behind the door. The boys kicked their shoes off and trailed him into the kitchen, where the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar hung heavy in the air.

“If we wait for long enough, the smell shall bring her downstairs.” Ventus said, “But why don’t you go up and surprise her?”

Ignis smiled again, a disarmingly sincere grin, and nodded before turning and silently trotting up a set of stairs at the rear of the kitchen. Gladio, Ignis and Prompto looked between themselves for a moment, unsure of what exactly was going on, but Ventus raised a single finger and a gesture for ‘wait for it.’

A beat.

Then piercing, excited squealing echoed down the stairs.

“Ventus!” A heavily accented voice cried and a clattering of footsteps boomed down the stairs. “Ventus! Ventus, Ignis is here!””

A tall, willowy women, likely no older than thirty, tore into the kitchen, dragging a slightly embarrassed Ignis behind her by his hands. Strawberry blond hair was piled high in a messy bun atop of her head and her mossy green eyes, a perfect match for her son’s, grew impossibly wider when she noticed the crowd gathered around the coffee cake cooling on the kitchen island.

“By the Six!” She clutched ink stained fingers to her heart, dragging Ignis’s hand along with them and jittered back and forth on the tips of her feet.

“How fantastic! Ah! Come here!” She dropped her son’s hand after planting a firm kiss on his knuckles and crossed the distance between herself and Gladio to throw her slender arms around his bulk. Gladio was unphased and smiled warmly, returning the embrace with enough fervor to lift her up and off her feet to gain a bright, delighted laugh.

“Odessa was correct! You grew to be a formidable young man! Dearest Gladio!” Gladio bent down to give the woman access to his cheek as she pressed a firm kiss to the side of his stubble.

“And the little Prince!” Next, she snatched up Noctis, who was noticeably more alarmed. However, time with his mother had worn down the distrust he’d gained for physical contact in life and after a moment of oohing and awing, he relaxed into her grip.

“I’ve heard so much! So much! I’m just so proud!” She gushed before turning her full attention on Prompto. Prompto’s cheeks were alight as he was enveloped in her arms, the embrace much tighter than the others had been. “Dearest, sweet Prompto! Darling sunshine child! It is so good to finally meet you!”

Noctis blinked at Gladio, who only shrugged in response. But Ignis cleared his throat and stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his mother’s back.

“This is my mother,  Pluvia Scientia.” Ignis said with a small, indulgent smile. Pulvia gasped, and turned to face the others in the room, her arms still holding Prompto tightly against her chest.

“Apologies, yes! Please, call me Via!” She laughed and Noctis could see an echo of Ignis in the way her lips split with the sound.  Although Ignis kept his cards far closer to his chest, the warmth in her expression was one she’d passed down to her son.

“Via, then. I hate to say it, but I think you may have killed Prompto.” Gladio said, gesturing to how Prompto was gone limp within the clamps of Pluvia’s grip. Pluvia, like Ignis, was far taller than Prompto and after attempting to maintain a respectable distance from her, Prompto had simply given in to her unrelenting pull and seemingly turned to mush in the face of her affections. He didn’t know exactly what he’d done to deserve it, but he would be damned if he rejected any affection she was willing to give.

It was the same with Aulea and Odessa, who showed him as much love and kindness as they did their own sons. Prompto was consistently shocked when he was pulled in for kisses to his cheek or his forehead or when he was gobbled up in a sudden, fierce hug. He didn’t know what he’d done, but he cherished every moment, considering them his boon for helping to save the world.

“I suspect he’ll live long enough for coffee cake, isn’t that right, love!” Pluvia cooed, finally allowing Prompto to pull away. He nodded excitedly before turning his stunned but thrilled expression to Ignis, Gladio and Noctis.

Maybe, Ignis thought, the day would come when Prompto would cease looking confused when people were kind to him, but as Pluvia dragged an increasingly confused Prompto to the small breakfast nook and divvied him the largest piece of cinnamony coffee cake, Ignis knew that today would not be that day.

\----

“--and I turned around, cause I heard my name, and it was Cor and the triplets. I couldn’t believe it. They grew so much so quick, you know? And holy shit if Cor hasn’t gotten old-” Gladio was saying, stretched out fully on the largest of the deck chairs on the back patio of the Scientia home. Ventus nodded from behind his ever present mug of Ebony and smiled.

The sunset found the party lounging about on the large wrap around porch facing the clear, quiet meadow that made up the bulk backyard. Fireflies floated lazily about in the flowering bushes, just beyond the short stairs leading down into the yard, weaving their way around where Noctis and Prompto were curled together in the grass. Noctis was asleep, his head resting on Prompto’s chest. Prompto had his arm loosely thrown over Noct’s shoulder, but his eyes were glued to the emerging constellations that the king had pointed out (with only minimal help from Ignis and Pluvia) glistening in the rapidly darkening night sky.

The firepit hindered his ability to really make out the shape of the bear that was supposedly up there, but Prompto found the smell of the smoke comforting. The crackling logs, dragged from the neat pile stationed under its dedicated awning dulled the quiet conversations of those still up on the patio, but as he heard his name, Prompto was sent back down to earth.

“-runs every morning. Clarus said he takes the same route by his old apartment nearly every day.” Ignis said, pausing to take a long sip from his own, oversized mug as well.

“They won’t appear.” Pluvia said, and her tone had changed, ironed out from the overexcited mother and into the even, thoughtful pattern that Ignis took up when he was strategizing. This was Pluvia the Researcher, Prompto realized, not Pluvia the Mother.

“Is there no way to draw them out? The citizens of Insomnia can recognize us so easily if they are thinking of us... of Noct in particular-” Ignis asked.

“No.” Pluvia interrupted,and he heard her feet touch down in the bricks. “I suspect it is due to the fact that those citizens are strangers, you do not know them. You cannot anticipate where they shall be or if they shall even appear. They surprise you because you do not think of them individually. If Prompto has looked for them, held them in his mind and still not found them, or even felt their presence, then it is likely that they, unconsciously or actively, do not wish to see him. Therefore, they won’t.”

Prompto closed his eyes as her footsteps approached, pretending to be just as dead to the world as Noctis was. But the footsteps came to a stop just next to his head and he felt a cool hand gently card through his hair. His eyes flew open to find Pluvia staring down at him, a thoughtful, puzzled expression on her face. Ignis made a surprised sound from the back of his throat as he realized Prompto was awake, causing Pluvia to glance up with a faint smirk.

“He stopped breathing when he realized we were talking about him.” She looked down at Prompto, a bemused smile now settled on her lips. “Ignis used to try the same trick when he was but a boy; it didn’t work then either. I apologize about your parents, my dear.”

Noctis didn’t so much as stir as Prompto carefully shimmed out from under him to climb to his feet. Ignis kept a careful, fearful, eye on his expression as he stood and only just managed to keep his expression neutral in the face of Prompto’s thin, fake smile.

“It’s ok. That’s uh… That’s what I figured was… hm.. Going on.” He stammered, fingers twitching by his side. A moment of absent searching sent them to his camera, and he clasped and unclasped the flap for its protective case open and shut, open and shut.

“Iti isnot ‘OK’, and that is alright.” Pluvia said softly.

Gladio and Ventus had fallen silent, watching the scene unfolding before them with grim, tight expressions. Ventus stood first, and quietly excused himself, using the excuse of having dinner to finish to escape back into the house. Gladio followed suit, having hesitated for only a moment before trotting down the stairs to haul a still sleeping Noctis over his shoulder and inside the house.

Prompto began to fidget in earnest, trapped by Pluvia’s gaze even in the wide expanse of the lawn. Ignis had half a mind to instruct his mother to leave Prompto alone, but she spoke again before he had the chance.

“I have spent… well more than a lifetime now, studying this world and its mysteries, but I suspect the most frustrating mystery I will be unable to solve is how anyone would wish to separate themselves from you.” Pluvia said, “You are kind, loyal and dedicated. You bring nothing but light with you, wherever you go. I admit I spied on your adventure, we _all_ did, don’t look at me that way, Ignis, dear, and I was thoroughly impressed with your ability to maintain morale in such dark, dire times. You-”   

“Please… please stop.” Prompto said. He’d pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on scab there that new truly went away. He tried to blink back the wetness in his eyes, frustrated with himself and his inability to keep himself together in the face of earnest compliments and such crushing, chest emptying disappointment.

“Prompto gets embarrassed easily, Mother.” Ignis interjected, sidling up to rescue Prompto from his mother's barrage. From the look on her face she honestly could not understand why Prompto would be embarrassed by her honest assessment. He felt as if were something that happened to her a lot.

“I apologize,” Pluvia said earnestly, “Would you like a hug?”

Prompto spared a glance at Ignis, who looked mortified on his mother’s behalf and nodded, struggling to right his expression over the burning, suffocating feeling in his chest.

“I… I’ll probably cry on you.” He said, wiping at his eyes.

“Quite alright.” She replied and drew him into her chest. Prompto let out a shuddering breath and released the full storm of his conflicted emotions into the soft grey fabric of her sweater.

Prompto hadn’t know just how much he’d been holding in until he was invited to let it go. He’d looked for the Argentums every day since he’d...since they all died. Fully expecting them to be in their apartment, or even better, waiting for him at his. He’d popped on his sneakers every morning and took full advantage of the afterlife’s perks to make his way downtown at a dead sprint. Every day, he used the key hidden under the cat statue to the left of their door and let himself in, calling like he had as a child.

They never answered.

Next, he would run to his own apartment, to the small empty space he’d shared with no one, and still, they didn’t answer. They didn’t pick up their phones, they didn’t check their mail. They weren’t at work, or the corner grocer. They weren’t at the coffee shop, or the fast food restaurant they’d taken him to once on his birthday.

He’d hoped at first that maybe… somehow, they’d made it out of Insomnia, but when he’d stepped through the Veil, he’d found that his entire neighborhood had been leveled. _All of it_ , flattened and crushed under an imperial dropship and massive chunks of rubble from Gods knows where. He’d heard the reports of course, that someone had activate the Old Wall and sent the massive stone sentinels on a rampage through the city, and he suspect that some of them must have stomped through his home. It was the only thing he could think of to explain the complete destruction of the buildings.

He’d even tried Aulea’s trick of thinking about them; holding the fondest memories he had upfront in his mind and letting his feet lead him. He’d stood on the steps on the Citadel for what must have been an hour, but he’d felt nothing but the breeze and a growing feeling of crushing rejection. But still, just like Ignis had said, he laced up every morning and ran his now familiar route, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they would materialize in his path, as excited to see him as he’d been to see them.

(And besides, he was a hero now, right? He’d been in the Crownsguard, fought Astrals, helped take down the Empire, helped bring back the Dawn. Everyone had said they were proud of him, so they would be too… right?)

“Ignis, these vegetables aren’t going to dice themselves.” Ventus called from the open kitchen window. Pluvia glanced over her shoulder at her son and nodded once, sending him back inside and away as she gently pulled back from the puffy eyed boy in front of her. His figure was rapidly switching between a young man of twenty and a small boy, no older than twelve at the most. Ignis had done similar age related acrobatics when he’d appeared at their front door, and had continued to do so throughout his entire visit, so she was used to how the hands she settled on his shoulders bounced up and down with his changing height.

“I’m sorry,” Said the child. He wiped messily at his eyes as he grew smoothly into a twenty year old, but his hair stayed limp against his forehead, as if he’d forgotten his hair products. “I told you I’d cry on you.”

“It’s a common reaction, sunshine. Ignis did the same thing.” She soothed.

“Ignis cried?” Prompto asked, incredulous.

“Of course he did. As you know, he holds things in. A habit we were unable to break him of before we were killed.” Pluvia, Prompto noted, spoke of her death rather bluntly, she didn’t tiptoe around the subject like some of the others did, using soft phrases like, ‘passed’ and ‘crossed.’ Earlier, over that beyond delicious coffee cake, she’d even used the term ‘murder.’ She apologized as Ignis had flinched, but the conversation continued, and Pluvia seemed unaware of the discomfort that’d settled around the table until Ventus had gently, but firmly, changed the subject.

“He tends to hold himself accountable for things beyond his control, you see, and when he finally began to discuss all that had happened? Well, I had quite the lap full.” She explained.

“Dinner is just about ready, would you like a glass of wine, love?” Ventus appeared at the doorway this time, a glass of deep red wine already held in his hand. Pluvia made a cooing sound and tapped at Prompto’s back to get him moving.

“The day I don’t is the day I have truly died.” She said dramatically, earning a small chuckle from Prompto.

The house smelled heavenly, a result of the brisket that had been slow cooking since they’d arrived. Noctis had even managed to wake himself up and drifted over to Prompto as soon as he and Pluvia entered the kitchen. The prince draped himself heavily over Prompto’s shoulders, resting his cheek against Prompto’s bony shoulder.

“You ok?” He said quietly. Gladio, about a subtle as a malboro, kept shooting the pair worried glances, obviously taking in Prompto’s bloodshot eyes and still sniffling nose, while he slathered a mountain of soft potato buns with freshly made honey butter.

“Getting there.” Prompto whispered back. He tilted his head to rest it atop Noctis’s and gratefully accepted the cold beer that Ventus pushed into his hand. “I’m getting there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I'm prepping for a move right now, so everything is a little... frazzled? 
> 
> As always, your comments give me LIFE! And motivation! Thank you so so much for reading!


	5. Stress Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have noticed that since… since we all arrived, that it appears His Majesty sometimes has trouble looking at Prince Noctis.” Ignis admitted. He flicked his eyes upward, checking for Aulea’s reaction before snapping back to the dough coming together under his hands. 
> 
> Or 
> 
> The Truth Hurts More Than Ignis Thought It Would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa! Two chapters in two days!  
> I must really love y'all! 
> 
> Or I couldn't get this scene out of my head and I have others things I need to focus on!
> 
> This scene takes place before Through the Veil, as well. 
> 
> None of these are in chronological order, haha!

“Regis certainly is a handsome man.” Aulea dropped lightly into an oversized lawn chair next to Ignis, her right arm held aloft as not to spill her delightful, red, fruity drink.

“Pardon?” Mossy green eyes blinked at her in confusion, and she watched with a wicked smirk as a twenty-two, now thirty, now twenty-two year old Ignis attempted to ascertain just what his queen was talking about.

They were seated in the garden, as per usual, situated in the circle of lawn chairs that enclosed the impromptu arena were Cor, Regis, Odessa and Luna were playing what was perhaps the most intense game of bocce ball she’d ever seen. On the other side of the circle, Noctis was slumped in his own lawn chair, looking like a king from where he’d fallen asleep in the middle of accosting the players.

“You see, my dear, when people stare with such intensity at him, they either want to kill him or sleep with him.” Aulea took a dainty sip from her glass as Ignis choked on air. “Alas, you look far too concerned for either of those options.”

Ignis looked for all the world like a cat caught in the canary cage, and the height of his hair did not detract from his startled appearance. He was frozen, shoulders stiff and creeping towards his ears,his eyes wide and panicked as Aulea slowly dragged her eyes from her husband to the teenager beside her.

“What’s on your mind, dear Ignis?” Aulea said, and Ignis again flickered back into his lanky twenty-two year old frame.

“Ah. Well.” Ignis said, and it was a close to stuttering as he got. He was unable to stop his gaze from drifting to Regis, where the monarch had taken his eyes from the game to look at Noctis with narrowed eyes.

“Hm. You see, Your Majesty, I fear the matter may be sensitive in nature.” Aulea, who’d settled comfortably into her favorite twenty-five year old self, smiled gently at the stammering young man and stood, motioning for him to follow her. He stood robotically and shed his jacket, warm despite the crisp autumn breeze.

The wind kicked up the orange and crimson leaves gathering across the grass and scattered them amongst the play field. It was only when Cor knocked his shoulder into Regis that the man took his eyes away from his son.

“Your mother warned me that you kept things to yourself until you burst.” Aulea said conversationally as she led them towards the palace’s industrial kitchens, “And you look like you're moments away from combustion; spill the beans… and make me one of those delightful little apricot tarts as well, if you please.”

Ignis seemed more comfortable in the kitchens, if the slow drop of his shoulders was anything to go by. He moved out of habit to collect his apron and swept his hair away from his teenage face, letting out a light sigh as he began to gather his ingredients.

“Apologies, Your Majesty, you caught me off guard.” Ignis said at last, keeping his eyes to his task as he turned to preheat the oven.

“I have to stay in practice somehow.” Aulea shrugged. 

“I have noticed that since… since we all arrived, that it appears His Majesty sometimes has trouble looking at Prince Noctis.” Ignis admitted. He flicked his eyes upward, checking for Aulea’s reaction before snapping back to the dough coming together under his hands. Aulea hummed in encouragement, carefully keeping her face neutral despite the ache that took up residence behind her breastbone.

“He looks pained when this mood seems to strike him. It only appears if he observes Noctis sleeping, however. It appears very similar to how he would look at him after the Marilith attack.” He explained.

Aulea frowned and pushed her drink aside to rest her head on her hand to watch as Ignis carefully draped the dough in the drop bottom forms.

“I have seen this as well, I had hoped that time would heal this wound, but Reggie doesn’t let go of these kinds of things very easily.” Aulea sighed.

Ignis slipped the crusts into the oven and turned back to Aulea, he rested his hands on his hips and tapped his fingers against his hip bones, anxious in the face of her patient stare. He maintained his silence as she pushed a bowl of apricots over the table towards him and waited for him to continue, watching as he opened his mouth once, twice, three times before clearing his throat.

“I suspect it is related to Noctis’s death.” Ignis spoke carefully, settling into his formal, courtly tone as he eased into his uncomfortable theory. “I… We don’t know what happened after he left us. We… Iron Giants spawned and MTs... others came as well, it all escalated rather quickly.”

Ignis was taking extra care as he thinly sliced the apricots, dragging out prep that she’d seen him do in a showy flash before. She ached to get up and comfort him, to gather him up in her arms, but there was determination to the twist of his lips and tension in how he had suddenly settled into his just-a-hair-too-thin, thirty-year old body that told her that their final battle was not something that was discussed often. She wouldn’t interrupt him now, especially when it seemed to be taking so much effort for him to speak on it at all.

“By the time Gladio and I utilized our... last resort, Prompto was already gone. When we… when we joined him, Noctis was already there. The last thing I remember before waking up _here_ was watching the Kings attack Ardyn… Noct falling... I know _something_ happened in that throne room, I simply do not know what. Yet… Yet I cannot help but feel that King Regis somehow is involved, or holds himself accountable.” Ignis set down his knife with trembling hands and braced them against the stainless steel counter.   

“When Noct collected the Royal Arms, they rose from the graves in the form of light, but when they would all plunge into his chest- I suppose into the Armiger...” Ignis straightened and rolled his shoulders before gathering the apricot slices and dumping them back into the bowl. “He stumbled and grabbed at his chest. Every time. As if he-”  

“As if he felt them.” Aulea finished. Ignis dragged his eyes up, tapping the wooden spoon he’d been using to mix the filling to take in her watery eyes and the way she’d pressed her lips together. Just like Noctis did when he was upset.

Ignis took a series of deep, calming breathes, all of which were wholly ineffective. He reached for a cup of sugar, ready and portioned in the line of waiting ingredients, but his hand faltered and landed lightly on the table top. His fingertips tapped at a lump of sugar that had fallen from the bowl and he rubbed it absently between his fingers. Unwilling to proceed, but unable to not know what had happened.

“Tell me the Gods would not be so cruel.” Ignis whispered.

Aulea stood and came around the island towards him, but Ignis, one hand clenched against the counter as if to hold himself up rose the other to ward away her comfort.

“Please.” He implored, “I mean no offense, but your embrace is known for breaking the composure of the strongest of men, and I-”

“It was Regis’s sword that felled him.” Aulea stated, and Ignis stepped back and away from her, his hand rising lifting higher, blocking his face from her view. He had known that the truth would sting; the knowledge the Noctis had to die so that others may live nearly broke him, but Ignis could not live in ignorance. He’d prayed that whatever end the Astrals had planned for his Prince would be merciful, but if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that the Gods were anything but.

(He’d kept it together well enough when Noctis had told them all, confirming what Ignis had already known, even though he felt as if his chest were caving in. His ruined eye had burned hot with the tears he held back, and he’d stayed awake all night, struggling not to allow his shaking to wake the others.)

“The blows from the Armiger did their damage, but it was Regis’s sword that ended his life. The blade went through his chest and pinned him to the throne.” Regis had told Aulea what had happened, had sobbed through the dreadful tale the second time that nightmares had torn him from their bed. She’d seen the aftermath, of course, but the knowledge of the macabre ceremony leading to it was almost too much to bear.

She’d kill Bahamut herself if she ever managed to get her hands on him.

“Cor Leonis and Iris found you all after the sun had risen. Cor removed the blade to free Noctis and buried you all together at Galdin Quay.” Aulea crept forward and when Ignis dropped his arm to his side, and pulled the unresisting teenager in to curl her arms around his shaking frame.

“He… he has not said anything.” Ignis gasped, clearly desperate to subdue the emotion clogging his throat. He kept his arms stiff at his side, afraid that giving in to her hug would break the very fragile hold he had on himself.

“He likely won’t. You know how stubborn he is, and Regis… Regis is having trouble with it all as well. All we can do is support them, love them, and wait.” Aulea said.

“They did not deserve it.” Ignis hissed, “How could the Gods treat their “Chosen,” thus?”

“None of you deserved it.” Aulea said, pulling back enough to place her hands on either side of Ignis’s face, forcing the boy to look at her. His eyes were red rimmed, but dry, and burning with the same impotent rage of a child in the face of an unconquerable authority.

“Allowing Noctis to ascend those stairs alone… knowing that he would… that he would die was the hardest thing I ever did. I cannot imagine being forced to-” Ignis pursed his lips into a single, white line.  The oven’s timer suddenly beeped from behind them, and Ignis leapt at the opportunity to distract himself.

Crusts cooling, he carefully moved around Aulea to assemble the apricot filling, happy to have something to do with his hands. He hadn’t know what he was expecting, but to hear that King Regis, who had died to _save_ Noctis had been the one to _kill_ him? It made him want to weep and destroy everything around him in equal turns.

“And yet, you did it. Just as Noctis had to ascend and leave you three alone. Just as Regis had to… had to fulfill the prophecy. It’s unfair-”

“Apologies, Your Majesty but ‘unfair’ is an understatement.” Ignis intoned.

“Fair enough. But may I offer a suggestion?” She asked, returning to her seat on the other side of the island and finishing off her bright pink cocktail. As she often did when she gave advice, she shifted into mid-thirties, causing a cascade of bright silver hair to shimmer into existence amongst her auburn curls.

“Of course.” Ignis nodded, moving now to fill the cooled crusts.

“Comfort yourself as I have; by spending time with them now. Here, they cannot be hurt... or more, here, we can fully protect them from harm. Now, I can wrap my arms around my son whenever I wish, there is no more barrier to separate us. I can draw Regis from the darkness of his thoughts when his memories become too much, convince Prompto that kindness and love does not have to be earned. Maybe I can even convince you to relax.” She smiled as the side of Ignis’s mouth ticked up.

“I appreciate your concern, though.” Aulea said. She leaned forward across the island to hook her finger into the bowl of leftover filling and dragged it closer, licking the spoon clean of it’s sticky fruity feeling. “Regis is difficult to comfort, but I’m working at it, one day… and now one tart, at a time.”

Ignis nodded and although his body language was still stiff, she noted that he seemed to be collecting ingredients for another round of baked goods.

“What are you making now?” Aulea asked, gathering up a few of the finished apricot treats.

 "My take on a Tenebraen tartlet, then a carrot cake, and then perhaps some macaroons.” Ignis said.

“Stress baking then?” Aulea smiled. Ignis looked up and lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, but there was the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Stress baking.” He confirmed.

“I’ll leave you too it then.” She turned to leave, arms laden with sweets and was almost to the door when Ignis called out.

“Your Majesty?” Ignis’s form continued to flicker back and forth between the solemn thirty year old she’d last glimpsed preparing to travel to Hammerhead and teenager who’d somehow managed to keep Noctis in line.

“Yes, darling?”

“Thank you." He said, "For telling me.”  

“Of course.” She nodded.

When she returned outside and back into the noonday sun, it was to Cor, once again on the receiving end of an embarrassing story.

“So I’m just dangling by my fingertips, shouting for someone to pull me back up, but Cor is wailing so loudly that nobody could even-” Regis was laughing but Cor was scowling at him with enough ferocity to indicated another sparring session was in order.

“How many times must I say this! I was _poisoned_! Confused!” But the shrillness to his voice, coupled with the fact that he kept flickering into a blotchy faced teen, only made the assembled group laugh harder.

“You leave Kitty Cat alone, Regis, or else I shall eat all of these myself!” Aulea called, mock anger coloring her voice. Aulea kicked off her shoes the second she crossed onto the lawn, as always delighting in the feeling of the grass against her toes.

Regis, as he tended to when he saw her, immediately shifted into a bright eyed twenty five year old and jogged over to snatch up one of the apricot tarts from her tray.

“My favorite! Did you just make these?” He asked, planting a firm, now sticky, kiss against her cheek.

“Ignis made them.” Aulea replied, extending the tray to a petulant Cor, who took two treats out of spite. Noctis frowned at the mound of sweets and cut his eyes to his mother, and then to the empty breezeway behind her.

“Where is he?” He asked suspiciously.

“The kitchens, it seems there are more treats on the menu..” Aulea said.

“He’s… stress baking? Why? What did you say to him?” Noctis’s tone wasn’t accusing but it was close enough for Regis to frown over a mouthful of caramel sauce.

“He requested answers to some sensitive questions.” Aulea said, but Noctis spun on his heel to march off towards the kitchen without responding.

“What is going on?” Odessa asked, cracking a tart in half to split with Luna.

“Nothing, don’t worry. Just boys learning to talk about their feelings.” Aulea said.

“Oh, then we shall be getting many more sweets.” Luna smirked.

Odessa threw her head back to cackle and threw her arm around Luna’s shoulders.

“I think we’re a bad influence!” She laughed, and Regis shook his head in exasperation.

“Terrors, I say, the lot of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ignis is too curious for his own emotional well being. 
> 
> As always! Thank you so much for reading and commenting! Your comments give me life! Even if it's just one word, or like, "Booo" 
> 
> <3 <3


	6. Those Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck you, Cid, you old asshole.” Cor flipped both of his middle fingers in the air, glaring openly into Cid’s smug smirk and Prompto’s startled face, and stepped backwards through the Veil separating the Beyond from his destination. As Aulea had instructed, he held what he wished to see most in his mind’s eye, and allowed himself to be flooded with the warmth his memories created within his chest. 
> 
> When he blinked next, he was standing behind his own grave on the rocky outcrop of the hills overlooking Galdin Quay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or
> 
> Cor misses his family.
> 
> _____________________________________-
> 
> There's a song reference and a book reference in here that I didn't notice until a second read through .  
> 10 points to whoever gets them!

“-he was so out of it that he cried every time Reg left the room for a week. He thought he was dead if he couldn’t see em’.” Cid recounted, relishing in how Prompto’s knees clacked together as he struggled to remain upright under the force of his helpless laughter.

 

“That’s it! Enough!” Cor boomed. His ire only proved to stoke the laughter in the circle of people around him, causing even the unflappable Ignis’s shoulders to shake. Fully finished with his nearly constant torment, he threw the small, black beanbags he held to the top of the crimson and gold cornhole goal that he, Cid, Prompto and Ignis were currently gathered around.

“Fuck you, Cid, you old asshole.” Cor flipped both of his middle fingers in the air, glaring openly into Cid’s smug smirk and Prompto’s startled face, and stepped backwards through the Veil separating the Beyond from his destination. As Aulea had instructed, he held what he wished to see most in his mind’s eye, and allowed himself to be flooded with the warmth his memories created within his chest.

When he blinked next, he was standing behind his own grave on the rocky outcrop of the hills overlooking Galdin Quay. The sunlight bouncing off the deep blue waves blinded him for a moment, and he shielded his eyes from the light with the back of his hand, the other, fell automatically to brace himself against the headstone to his right. He knew it immediately, as he’d preemptively chosen the sleek, minimalist marker himself the day after his doctor had handed down her grim diagnosis.

(“Being a bit rash, aren’t you?” Iris had snapped, tossing the pamphlet to the table as if the glossy paper burned her fingers. She gestured to the stone circled in red on the cover and sneered. Cor could see Gladio in her now, how she defaulted anger to express her sorrow. He could see the angry child, smashing his toys after Odessa had passed, adamantly refusing to cry even as he ripped himself apart.

“Iris.” There was enough authority in his tone to cause her pause. He’d settled his hand on her shoulder, brushing aside her mass of raven hair and watched as she proceeded to crumble to pieces.)

Sitting before his grave, waving together a flower crown of sylleblossoms, was Holly, designated from her identical sisters by the cursive H’s that covered the charm bracelet strapped around her wrist.

She’d grown since he’d been away, and appeared to be six, maybe seven. Her own dark hair was pulled into curly pigtails on either side of her head and she was dressed in a fluffy purple dress; her favorite color. The ribbons tied on either side of her head danced in the sea breeze, but she ignored them in favor of plucking a sylleblossom from the bouquet she had pinned beneath her knee.

“-and Aster said that you wouldn’t come because you died but then Camilla hit her for me and then we _all_ got grounded but Sorrell said there was “no harm in asking,” and Daddy said he’d take us to visit you himself and he’s _always_ busy but the recital is next month and even Aster said she’s excited and all she ever wants to do is practice stupid archery but I think dancing is better.” Holly gushed, taking no time to pause between her words as she looped stem after stem together in an increasingly large crown. Her tiny fingertips were painted bright purple to match her dress, and wrapped in a collection of bright pink band aids, no doubt from some ill-advised adventure with her sisters.

Cor felt himself smile as he watched her work and moved to sit and lean his shoulder against his headstone. He could see he was mostly transparent, the edges of his person shimmering with the same bluish light that accompanied teleportation in the Beyond. He could hear Aster and Camillia shouting and giggling in the distance and spotted Iris standing atop the ridge, just a few meters away, keeping a watchful eye on the most sensitive of her triplets. Iris’s hair was beginning to go grey, the effects of the handful of her family, Cor suspected. The crows feet around her eyes deepened as she smiled down at those gathered just out of view, and she lifted her hand up, fingers splayed out, likely giving a time to someone below. He could see Odessa in the expression, in the tip of her nose and the set her hands on her hips.

 _That_ would be a reunion he would be sure not to miss.

“-so here is your formal invitaten... invitation.” Holly shuttered, and Cor turned his attention back to his granddaughter as she leaned forward to place a bright pink sheet of heavy cardstock against the stone. She pinned it in place with a nearby rock and leapt to her feet to carefully place the completed flower crown atop his headstone.

“OK, PawPaw Cor, I gotta go give Uncle Noct and Uncle Iggy and Uncle Prompto and Uncle Gladdy and PawPaw Cid and PawPaw Regis and Grandpa theirs. Tell them it’s gonna be really good because I get to be in the front this year and my tutu is black but my tights are purple and Mommy said I get to keep your necklace on too.” Holly wiggled a short stack of cardstock at the tombstone before proudly lifting Cor’s dogtags, now laced on a sturdy silver chain as opposed to his tarnished steel, from around her neck.

“They’re all yours.” Cor said, smiling. How Holly managed to keep them to herself was a mystery, but the girl did have a pair of lungs on her that usually did a pretty good job of deterring her thieving sisters.

“Bye bye! Love you!” She danced forward, spinning about in a nearly perfect pirouette to kiss the top of the shining obsidian before she dashed off, further down the hill and over the rocks to the rest of the graves stationed there.

“I love you!” He shouted after her, careless that he would go unheard.

Iris snapped her head up, eyes wide, and looked directly at him. Cor clambered to his feet, heart in his throat, but Iris’s eyes swung to his left, then his right, never settling on him. She could not see him after all. Still, after watching as Holly joined the others just in front of the small grouping of tombstones on the ridge below, she meandered over to stand in front of his grave, a wry smile on her lips.

“My, my. She gets better and better at these every time, doesn’t she? She spotted a picture of Noctis and Luna at the museum with them on and just _had_ to know how to make them. I was afraid she was gonna go through the Citadel’s entire garden, but she’s a quick learner.” With a grunt, Iris lowered herself down to crouch before the grave and smiled at the invite fluttering there in the breeze.

“I hope that… wherever you are, you get a chance to step out and watch her recital. It’s beyond adorable. The instructor said she may be good enough to go all the way if she keeps at it. Which is exactly what Aster’s archery instructor said. Camilla’s art camp starts next week, and I bet you I’ll get a similar speech when she gets home too. Cor you should see the paintings that child cranks out. Amazing stuff, especially the landscapes.” Iris said, idly brushing stray rocks and weeds off the unmarked plot. She fell silent, and sighed, glancing over her shoulder as Holly dutifully placed her bright invitations against each of the headstones nestled into the enclave. Aster and Camilla were running circles around their brother, and behind them all, snapping photos, was Iris’s husband.

“We miss you.” She said after a moment. “It’s hard to keep the damn Council in line without you to yell at em’. I had to talk them down from making a statue of _you_ this time. Gotta say, I almost let them, just to fuck with you a little.”

Cor couldn’t help but laugh at the disgruntled look on her face. He’d bet Clarus that it would be a matter of time before she was installed as the head of the Council, willing or no. She was simply too good at her job. Too dedicated, efficient. Used to leading, although she’d once admitted how different it was to give commands in the bright light of the sun.

“Would it be crazy for me to admit that I thought I’d just heard you? Makes me a bit paranoid, you know. You always seemed to be looking at someone just before you died. Ha, did I hear the owl call my name?” Iris shook her head and sighed heavily. “I thought I saw Dad, you know. At the Cape, after they set sail?  I could have sworn it was him, looking at the boat in the distance, just… leaning against the fence. I didn’t call out though, I’m not sure why… I guess. I guess I was afraid it wouldn’t be him?”

Iris stood, grimacing as her knees cracked and popped with the movement. Cor remained seated, watching as the woman who’d grown to be his daughter glanced behind her to check on the others again. Her lips twitched sideways as the sound of raised voices resounded up the rocks, and she released a defeated sigh.

“Mmm… well, time to go. Sorrell gets pissy when he’s hungry these days. Teenagers, amiright?” She stepped forward, close enough to kick Cor’s knee had he not scooted out of the way, and placed her hand on top of the smooth tombstone.

“‘Till next time, old man.”

“I love you too.” Cor replied. He almost stood to follow her, but the edges of his vision were fading. Not to darkness, but back to the Beyond.

Galdin Quay was fading fast, the resort in the distance growing fainter and blurry as it was replaced by the portrait of Regis’s father that hung in the old, now empty, dining room. The sparse grass and dirt beneath him grew soft and short as it was replaced by the swirling floral pattern of the room’s plush carpeting. The last image he had of that other world, before the veil swished shut, was Iris’s ponytail lashing about in the wind.

“Have a nice trip?” Clarus asked, Cor didn’t jump, but he did curse. Clarus had always been good at sneaking up on him.

“Of course, as strange as it is to see your own headstone.” Cor shrugged, unable to suppress the grin stretching across his face.

“I’m glad. I’ll guess they’re doing well then?” Clarus asked, he offered his hand and helped Cor to his feet.

“Very well. Sorrel appears to be entering his rebellious teenage years, but the triplets are all excelling in their hobbies. In fact, Holly has a dance recital that we are all formally invited to in about a month. Just before the Dawn Festival.” Cor lead the way out from the darkness of the dining room, eager to be back in the sun.

“Odessa will be delighted.”

 

_______________

 

Odessa, as it turned out, was more than simply delighted. She was joy personified as she collected her ghosts the day of the recital, nervous to miss the event, but ecstatic that the Veil had grown thin enough for them all to stay for as long as they wished. She’d forced the company to dress as if they were attending a court dinner and lined them all up for inspection before they’d crossed, together, through the Veil and into New Dawn Elementary’s large gymnasium.

Clarus took a seat beside his daughter, who was seated in the front row, camcorder in hand besides the ‘In memoriam’ seat that all events seemed to have these days. The rest of the group stayed back, taking up the back wall of the room to watch as Holly leaped and danced across the stage.

Iris was right, it was by far the most adorable display he’d ever seen. Cor had brought with him a single syllebloosom, and worked hard not to crush it in his fist as he watched the show. Cid had said nothing when he noticed the marshall’s lackluster bouquet, but he’d shook his head and muttered to himself about ‘foolish old men.’ But since nobody seemed to know what allowed them to be visible to the living or when, he wasn’t going to risk showing up to Holly’s performance empty handed.

“I can’t even… I cannot handle how adorable this is!” Prompto half squealed, half whispered. Gladio nodded, and clapped the blonde’s shoulder before walking up the aisle to join his parents, crowded around an oblivious Iris and the rest of the fidgeting children.

“I’m glad you were with them.” Noctis said, apropos of nothing of, turning to Cor with a small, genuine smile. Luna had her arms wrapped about Noctis’s left arm with her head resting on his shoulder, eyes bright and delighted as she watched the kids enter into the final act of the evening.

“It was a blessing.” Cor said.

“Is she wearing dog tags?” Ignis asked suddenly, squinting through the darkness. Around them, the piano music was swelling, and Holly was pirouetting to the center of the stage.

“Yes,” Cor smiled, “They’re mine.” Obviously his, if the way they were just slightly warped was any indication, the result of a very, very close call.

“Playing favorites?” Prompto asked, he lifted his camera as one of the older dancers reached out to pluck Holly from the ground and spin the girl around in a graceful circle. Their dance was some sort of tribute to Noctis, but interpretive dance was lost on Cor. Some of the dancers were dressed brightly and leapt across the stage like the first rays of a new morning, while the rest were dressed in dark colors, like Holly; all blues and black and purple of a bruised night sky. The older girls, apparently representing the Dawn chased the youngest members of their troupe across the stage in a series of wide, graceful spins and daring leaps.

“Not at all,” Cor explained, “Holly is simply the most sensitive. She needed a bit more coddling than the others and she enjoys shiny objects.”

“That’s playing favorites.” Prompto and Noctis sang at once.

“Who’s your favorite of us then?” Prompto asked, over eager as he spun to snap a few shots of Cor’s scowl.

“Lunafreya.” Cor replied immediately.

“How cold.” Ignis smirked.

From the front row, Aulea turned and shushed them with a single finger to her lips, her eyes glinting dangerously in the low lights lining the main aisle that split the crowd in two. The group immediately fell silent.

Several minutes later, the girls were lined up and bowing along the front of the stage to a standing ovation. Holly, in the front as she had said she would be, leapt from the stage as soon as they were released and sprinted down the aisle, blasting past the open arms of her mother, darting through the shout of alarm from her father and made a beeline for Cor at the back of the auditorium. Parents fell over themselves to get out of her way as the little ballerina barreled past them all, arms up and laughing.

“I knew you’d come! I knew it! Knew it!” She cried, and in an echo of her three year old self, her hands grabbed at the air as she readied herself to launch into the safety of Cor’s arms.

“I’m always with you, Princess.” He said, automatically bending to catch her, but as she leapt for him, amber eyes bright, Cor realized that the room was shimmering out of existence around him. He dropped his flower and lifted his hands to curl his fingers to form them a rudimentary heart, just as Iris had taught him, and forced his smile to hold as Holly’s fingers passed through his chest and scattered his perception to the wind.

“Damn.” He muttered, and frowned into the brilliance of the sunset as it settled over the dull, grey steps of the Citadel.

On the other side, Holly clutched a single, perfect sylleblossom to her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! Your support is what makes this all possible!


	7. Time Cannot Heal All Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Queen of Lucis.” 
> 
> Aulea’s body seized in fear as she heard a voice, a woman’s voice, call from the end of the bed. There was a figure standing there, shrouded by shadow and utterly still despite the gentle breeze dancing through the tall, open windows. There was nothing to defend herself with here, no blade hidden beneath her pillow, no pistol under the bed, so Aulea grabbed blindly to her left and hurled the hardcover romance novel Gladio had recommended towards the sound.
> 
> Or
> 
> Time Cannot Heal All Wounds

_“Dad!”_

_Noctis?_

_“Dad!”_

_Regis was aware that he was moving, gliding forward against some great, shuddering resistance. But Noctis, where was he? He sounded panicked, scared. In pain. Making those same, strangled sounds of horror that he had when Regis had found him prone, nearly cleaved in two, in the smoldering wreckage of what should have been the safest car in the kingdom. Regis’s heart kickstarted into overdrive as he tried to shake off whatever stasis he was in._

_“Regis! Gods, Regis!” Aulea’s voice was closer, almost in his ear it seemed, but while he knew she was screaming by the hitch in her voice, it sounded far off, distant, like the echo of sound when one was on the verge of passing out, floating on the edge of consciousness._

_He blinked, but saw nothing but darkness. He tried to move, but felt nothing but the resistance against his right arm. Whatever it was, it was holding him back, weighing him down like a suit of lead. The screaming was growing louder, hysterical, as the seconds ticked by. What was happening? Why couldn’t he move? Had they been attacked? Where was Clarus? Why couldn’t he_ move _?_

_He blinked again, but found he couldn’t even shake his head. Only his arm ground forward, and the screaming suddenly pierced through the haze of his awareness. His vision was beginning to clear incrementally , from total blackness to a deep, blooming red in the centered in his field of vision._

_He pushed his arm forward again, as it seemed to be the only part of himself that he had any control over, and the darkness clouding his eyes receded further, and red was flooding his vision, but the screaming was becoming deafening. It echoed through his ears, reverberated through his bones. He had to move, had to get to Aulea and Noctis, had to find out what the hell was happening._

_The resistance grew stronger, and he could feel the vibrations of it shaking up his fingertips, over his arm, and into his chest to grip around his frantically beating heart._

_“D-ad!” Noctis sounded like he was pleading, begging, choking wetly on sobs like a child._

_“Noctis!” Panic powered his arm and he shoved the only free point on his body forward with a growl, desperate to free himself of the grip of whatever kept him from fighting,  from defending, from saving them._

_Whatever he was pushing against snapped, an almost audible pop accompanying the feeling, and he nearly fell forward when the scraping resistance he’d been fighting vanished. His eyes opened, the darkness evaporated like fog, and all he could see was red. All over his hand, his fingers, the hilt of the blade he held in a gnarled, crimson covered gauntlet._

_“Regis! No! My boy! My baby!” Aulea wailed as if she were dying. Her voice cracked painfully, as if she’d been screaming for hours. She was hanging off his right arm, fingers clawed, slick and shining and wet as she desperately tried to pull his hand away from his sword. She dug crimson stained white heels into the soaked carpet and yanked at his arm, but only succeeded in staining more of her wedding gown._

_Regis’s heart turned lead and the air rushed from his lungs as dread forced his horrified eyes forward. He tried not to look but it was too late, and he could feel the howl building in the depths of his soul as he saw him._

_Noctis’s hands scrambled weakly for purchase against the broad edge of the blade buried in the center of his chest. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood freckling his rapidly paling cheeks. Each futile tug tore into his already shredded hands, but it was too far gone to registered that he was scraping bone to metal._

_“...Da..d…” His gasped for air past blood stained teeth, fanatic and shallow, and the sound of his life fleeing echoed in the throne room, despite the fact that Regis knew that it was far from empty. Aulea’s screams fell upon deaf ears, despite how he knew she was still, still screeching. Still kicking, punching, shoving at the statue he’d become._

_Everything. Everything was red._

_There was a hand on his elbow, and another on his arm, and he could feel the Kings wrapping themselves around him. A gloved hand descended over his eyes, fingers spaced so the only thing he could see was Noctis’s terrified eyes. Their shimmering gauntlets layered themselves over his hands, but the blood,_ Noctis’s _blood, only seemed to glow in the ethereal light they emitted._

“NO!” _Regis tried to pull back, but his body was not his own. He felt their power rear back, and he screamed, begged._

_Together, they shoved the sword home._

 

Aulea woke to the echo of a scream.

She threw her arm to the side, searching for Regis out of habit and twitched when her arm hit nothing by cold silk sheets.

“Queen of Lucis.”

Aulea’s body seized in fear as she heard a voice, a woman’s voice, call from the end of the bed. There was a figure standing there, shrouded by shadow and utterly still despite the gentle breeze dancing through the tall, open windows. There was nothing to defend herself with here, no blade hidden beneath her pillow, no pistol under the bed, so Aulea grabbed blindly to her left and hurled the hardcover romance novel Gladio had recommended towards the sound.

“This realm is free of those who would seek to cause you harm.” And now fully awake, trembling with a scream shuddering behind her clenched teeth in the sudden cold of the room, Aulea registered the smooth, calming cadence of Gentiana’s voice.

“By the Gods, Gentiana.” Aulea growled, flicking on the bedside lamp. The room was immediately bathed in soft, golden light, illuminating the Glacian smiling softly at the foot of her bed. Aulea blinked in confusion and glanced towards the empty space that Regis had occupied hours ago. With a jolt,  Aulea connected several dots and all but fell from the bed, still mostly tangled in the sheets.

“Gods, what’s happened? Where is he?” Aulea was shooting for demanding, but panic leaked heavily in her voice. Her fingers went numb, tingling as if sparking with electricity and she fumbled to wrap her heavy emerald robe around her waist.

“Safe, unharmed. In body, yet not in mind, this wound stands the test of time.” Gentiana said, her eyes gently closed.

“Where.” This time, there was strength in her tone, and she studiously ignored how the lightning sizzling in her fingertips shot up her arms and bundled in the crooks of her elbows.

“The site of his pain, the heart of this land, where the light he once guarded was snuffed out by his own hand.”

“Thank you.” Aulea said, looking up briefly as she detangled herself from the bed sheets, Shiva was still a Goddess, and deserved respect, even in the face of her oft infuriating poetic sentences. Once free, Aulea closed her eyes and brought Regis, smiling, beautiful, tragic Regis, to her mind. When she opened them, she found herself once against standing alone in the darkened  throne room of the Beyond.

“Oh, Regis.” She sighed, moving towards the still visible slit in the Veil at the foot of the throne itself.

On the other side, bathed in moonlight from the massive hole still punched in the room’s ceiling, was Regis, sitting with his legs splayed out before him in front of throne. He was young, much to her surprise, as he usually slipped into his older, frailer frame when distressed, and staring brokenly at the jagged, stained slash in the upholstery of the thorne’s back. How long had he been there? How long had he sat alone? Hours may have passed for Aulea, but time flowed chaotically here, and in Regis’s time, he could have been lost to his guilt, for far, far too long. 

Aulea had not returned to the room after Regis and Noctis had passed. In her mind, the very air of it was cursed, forever tainted by the last breath of her son. She knew what Regis was seeing, as she could see him too. The slumped and broken form of her boy, his blood tacky and dark against nearly every surface around him. As she approached the shaking form of her husband, she could still see the dark splash of Noctis’s blood on the armrest, on the seat, frozen in fat rivulets down sides of that doomed chair. She tried not to look at the stains on the once shining flooring from where the wound had wept anew after Cor had removed the blade. She didn’t want to see the black stains of the Marshall’s footprints leading down and away. Part of her understood why they had chosen to keep the room the same, to seal it off from the rest of the now bright world, but the rest of her wished they’d burned it to the ground.

“Darling.” Aulea called.

Regis brought his knees to his chest, but did not acknowledge her besides a small shake of his head.

“Regis.” She took a step forward, making sure to jingle the set of bracelets about her wrist to help him identify her voice. He’d gifted the set of diamond and sapphire bands to her on their first anniversary, and she’d worn them every day until she’d died. He’d kept them then, she remembered, hung on her display case and set high on a dusty, untouched shelf in his private study.

“Reggie.” She tried again, and after a moment of clenching and unclenching his right hand, he lifted it up and out towards her, an invitation if she’d ever seen it. Aulea fell upon him immediately, bypassing his hand to tuck herself under his arm and against his chest. He shivered as she reached her hands up and under his shirt to press her palm against the frantic beating of his heart.

“My love, if you don’t get it out, you’ll never find peace.” Aulea whispered. She used her chin to nudge the unbuttoned collar of his silk pajamas to the side so she could lay a kiss to the clammy skin of his shoulder.

“For what I have done, I do not deserve it.” He choked. She leaned further into him, forcing him to support her weight and tried to catch his red rimmed eyes, but he continued to trace the damning stain on the throne, refusing, or unable, to look at her.

“Did you have a choice?”

“...No.”

“Then how long will you take the blame for things that were beyond your control?” She asked. She tapped a fingernail against his chest, over his heart. He opened his mouth, searching for a retort but found nothing.

“I… I could not watch…He was so brave… he called us ... But… I had to turn my back...” He breathed, and she felt his pulse quicken under her hand as he began to lose himself to the horror of his memories. “I could not bear to watch them. Each of the twelve kings… one after the other…crossing from this world into the next through… through him.” Regis’s shook himself into a ball, heedless of Aulea’s hands wrapped around his torso and fisted his hands into his hair, hiding from her in a manner that would have had his father rolling in his grave.

(“A king does not hide, Regis.” His father had said, scowling down at the boy curled under his bed. The thunder seemed to shake the very walls, but the King had no time for the boys soft whimpering.  He had only been a child, as young as Noctis had been when he was Chosen. “A king must never show fear.”)

“I could hear him gasping… he could not… they would not let him catch his breath...” Aulea’s heart broke in time with Regis’s voice and she shifted to press herself flush against his side, riding through the waves of the raw, breathless sobs that ripped themselves painfully from his throat.

“But when he called upon me, I could not control my hand. I… felt it! His face…he tried to look…”  

“Look at me.” Aulea said, caressing his damp cheek. He peered at her from over the shelter of his arms, but his expression crumpled once again as he took in her own, devastated expression.

“Our son, Aulea, our son!”

“Sleeps besides his bride at this very moment, at peace with his fate.” She soothed, pulling gently at his arms. He allowed her to pull him to his feet, grateful as she automatically moved to support him. “Come, let’s away from this place.”

Together, they slipped back through the veil, back into the darkened, silent corridors of the Citadel. Regis’s shaking had tapered into a fully body tremble as she brought him to the smooth, dark wood of Noctis’s bedroom door. She paused for a moment, ear to the wood, but heard nothing from within. Slowly, silently, she eased the door open and tiptoed inside, dragging a reluctant Regis behind her.

It was all worth it however, for the breath that he released upon seeing Noctis and Lunafreya curled together, a blanket halfheartedly thrown over their legs, as they slept tangled on the couch. The television was silently looping through the menu screen of a video game, and he could see where their controllers had been abandoned on the floor below them.

Aulea’s smile turned soft and warm and she detached herself from his side to sneak around the couch and drape the thick blanket, apparently embroidered with the Kingsglaive symbol, over them both. Noctis grumbled in his sleep and pulled Lunafreya closer into his chest to nuzzle his face into the tangled mass of her hair.

Aulea gestured to the both of them and mouthed, “See?” Regis nodded, his smile a touch too watery for her liking, and extended his hand to her. She laced her fingers through his and lead them back to their own rooms. The bed was still in disarray as they climbed in, but Aulea simply ripped the covers from the floor and dragged them over them both to create a tent for just the two of them.

“I know… I know it will take time.” Aulea began as Regis wrapped himself around her, burying his head in her chest, “But you must remember that I am here now. Do not leave me leave me out of your battles.” She ran her fingers through his hair to rub slow, gentle circles into the base of his head. He sighed, weak to her touch and allowed his shoulders to leak away the tension that’d brought them to his ears.

“From now into eternity, you are mine and I am yours-” Regis yawned.

“-in this, or any other world.” She finished and smiled as his breathing slowed and he released a soft, quiet snore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so, so much for reading! And especially for commenting! 
> 
> I can't imagine Regis not having nightmares after everything. 
> 
> When you watch the ending again, notice how he hesitates before delivering the final blow. The other kings moved one after the other, so one could almost say they were moving on instinct, but when Regis donned his armor? That was him stabbing, not the host of a Royal arm. 
> 
> Urgh...S.E. how could you do this to me!


	8. Sharing the Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And imagine, my dear, you only thought you killed Prompto.” Noctis made a strangled sound and scrambled clumsily to his feet. Aulea let him, and shot a look of warning at Prompto when he skidded to a stop, several darts thwaping unnoticed against the back of his head, to watch as Noctis all but ran across the lawn to his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or 
> 
> Aulea can be manipulative when she needs (Wants?) to be.
> 
>  
> 
> If you can believe it, I'm honestly trying to keep these short. Like 1000 words short.  
> Key word "trying"

“I don’t understand what I’m lookin’ at.”

“Agreed,” Ignis said, “Last I remember, he was _terrified_ of him.”

“Damn right, he hid behind me like a puppy.” Gladio returned.

Together, they leaned to press their noses to the warm glass of the breezeway’s windows overlooking the small, sylleblossom covered courtyard and watched with wonder as Prompto, sitting with his legs crossed amongst the flowers, scooted close enough to knock knees with Ravus Nox Fleuret as he once again showed him how to weave the stems together. Ravus’s fingers seemed much too large against the delicate petals, but he worked carefully under Prompto’s watchful eye. Beside them both was a small pile of completed crowns, simply awaiting to be distributed, except for one, which was already resting atop Pryna’s pale head where the dog was curled flush against Prompto’s leg.

“The best part,” Lunafreya said, poking her head between Gladio and Ignis’s shoulders, “Is that _Ravus_ is the one who taught me to make them to begin with.”

The sounds of their jaws hitting the tiled floor was almost audible, but before they could question her further, Lunafreya leaned back, patted Ignis on the shoulder and waltzed down the hallway to lace her fingers through Noctis’s.

“You’re looking at it the wrong way.” Cor said. Gladiolus and Ignis started, thumping against windows as they spun in unison to take in the the young marshall’s satisfied smirk. Gladio still wasn't used to seeing Cor free of what used to be his permanent frown lines. He wasn’t used to his head of thick, chocolate hair, styled immaculately  against his head, the golden tan to his skin, and most of all, how easily his lips were split by a smile.

“You must remember that above all else, Ravus is an elder brother. Even before he could realize his mistake,” Cor said, obviously referencing Ravus’s decision to join the Empire’s forces, “the Empire had him by the dick because they had the only thing that mattered to him anymore.”

Despite choking at Cor’s choice of words, as accurate as they may have been, Ignis allowed his eyes to lift from Prompto’s blinding smile to watch as Lunafreya lead Noctis by the hand on the other side of the courtyard’s upper balcony. Noctis’s smile lit his twenty year old face in a way that made Ignis’s heart swell against his breastbone and he politely turned his gaze away as Noctis spun a laughing Lunafreya in for a kiss that was just a little too heated for public display.

“And Prompto is well… Prompto.” Cor gestured towards the glass and they all watched as Prompto excitedly reached up to drop a completed flower crown atop Ravus’s white blonde hair. It was pulled up in a halfhearted bun at the top of his head, rendering his usually formidable appearance much younger.

In fact, when Gladio really thought about it, it seemed as if Ravus was making an effort to look as nonthreatening as possible.

Earlier, when the entire company had arrived in what felt like a fleet of matte black cars (minus Cor’s bright red motorcycle), Ravus had stood stiffly behind his mother, feet spread in parade rest, close enough to pull her away in the off chance they decided to attack directly in front of the Tenebrean palace. But while his mother still wore her yards of regal, white fabric, Ravus was instead wearing a loose, white buttoned up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of black jeans. Both of his arms were human in the Beyond, but he still held his right stiffly, as if he wasn't yet used to it's mobility.

There had been a layer of awkward apprehension as the two families had gathered in loose groups across the lawn of the palace, both sides seemingly waiting to see if the animosity that had colored their interactions in life had followed them in death.

Until Aulea, who’d returned to the car to grab her gift of a cut of her great pink, flowering bush, had pushed past where Noctis and Regis stood shoulder to shoulder, depositing the large pot in Regis’s surprised arms and but threw herself at Sylva, who, in turned, had let out a squeal of delight so loud that even Prompto had jumped.

“Sylva, darling!”

“Aulea, you goddess! How are you?”

“Fantastic! Oh! How are you? I was hoping to be here sooner, but you know how it is!’ Aulea cried, slipping an arm around Sylva waist to drag the taller woman into her side.

“Like herding cats!” Sylva laughed, and draped her arm over Aulea’s shoulder, careful not to tug on the waves of her auburn being tossed about in the wind. “Come! I just opened a bottle of a truly exquisite wine that Nyx brought me from Galahd , that handsome devil!” Slyva and Aulea, perfectly in sync, lifted their free hands to wave their families along and disappeared in a chorus of giggles up the steps into the gleaming, unburnt, Fenestala Manor.

Gladio had hung back and shadowed Noctis as he’d shifted into a thirty year old King to shake Ravus’s hand. Lunafreya had patted his shoulder then, silently reassuring him, and moved up to interupt the two who had begun to quietly chat amongst themselves. But Gladio could read lips, and he saw how many apologies were being exchanged before radiant Luna swooped in to break them up by looping her arms through theirs to force them to escort her into the manor.

“Whoa.” Prompto had said, “He was wearing… jeans.”

“That’s what you were looking at?” Gladio scolded.

“What were _you_ looking at?” Prompto snapped.

“Boys.” Cid growled, stalking up behind them. Even Ignis had straightened at the warning in his tone.

“Attempt to behave.” Cor sighed.

  
But that had been hours ago, and after watching Ravus tiptoeing about the reunion, Prompto had shook out his arms and thrown himself fully into Friendship Mode.

Thus the flower crowns.

Noctis took his with a smile, and placed it gently over the sleep mused spikes of his hair. Seated on the grass beside him, Aulea took it a step further and began to wrap her hair about the stems, so only the deep blue blossoms showed through. Prompto smiled and wiggled a bit before dragging Ravus along with him to distribute the remainder of their labor to where Cid, Cor, Weshkam and Regis were seated together under the shelter of a large willow tree, nursing beers and, from the sour look on his face, once again teasing Cor.

Their group, all aged in their mid twenties in the warm, mid-afternoon sun, took the crowns and donned them as if they were being presented with gifts from a sovereign nation. Regis, to his credit, appeared to ask for a picture, much to Prompto’s immediate and audible delight.

“I keep forgetting that he never got to see it.” Noctis mumbled when he noticed Auela’s questioning gaze. Aulea had watched as her son had slowly but surely curled in on himself, drawing his knees to his chest with every overexcited snap of Prompto’s ever present camera.

The both watched as Lunafreya suddenly came barreling from the house, jumping directly over the three stairs that lead into their grand ballroom, a brightly colored toy dart gun in her hand and began to lay heavy fire down upon her older brother and Prompto. The boys snatched the guns from the air when she tossed them weapons of their own, and the game was on, all three slinging themselves about the sprawling expanse of the manor’s largest backyard, careful to avoid flying too close to the abrupt cliff at the far end.

“When we got here, it was on fire… but I’d- I’d already-” Noctis pressed his face to his knees to hide his face and took a single, shuddering breath. Aulea was immediately reminded of how Ignis had tried the same tactic to calm himself and she couldn’t help but wonder who’d taught them such an ineffective technique.

“I pushed him off the train. I… Ardyn tricked me.. He-” Noctis wrapped his arms around his knees and held tight to his own wrists, and she recognized his posture from when he used to hide in the dark corners of the library as a child. She curled her fingers into the choppy hair at the base of his neck and twirled the short strands around her fingers.

“I thought I killed him.” He whispered.

Aulea looped her arm through her son's and placed her hand against his arm to rub it soothingly. His shoulder’s sagged slightly at the contact, as if he hadn’t been expecting her sympathy.

“And yet he lived, and lives still.” She countered, tugging at him lightly to encourage him to look up. Noctis tilted his head just enough so he could see through the dark curtain of his hair to watch as Prompto dove behind Ravus, using the taller man as a human shield against the hail of Lunafreya’s bright blue suction darts. It was obvious that Ravus could have dodged, but he allowed them all to plop quietly against his chest. They were all laughing.

“I don’t know what I would have done… if he’d died. If I’d-” He spoke haltingly through clenched teeth, physically, biting back the words.

“You would have carried on, as you did after everything other terrible thing you faced.” Aulea replied. Noctis laughed dryly. He knew that she and others had dropped in on their journey from time to time, but he didn’t know what they’d seen and what they’d been told. It had hurt a little, at first, to know that they’d been spied on, to know that he’d been seen at rock bottom. He’d have rathered had his mother only have seen the King he eventually became, not the spoiled, coddled, trash he’d been in between.

“I don’t think I’d be able to look at him, here.” Noctis lifted his head further and rolled his shoulders back to rest his head on his knees. Cor had risen to join the game as well, as Sylva had apparently found an additional cache of the neon colored toys. He’d apparently joined Lunafreya’s team, and the group was momentarily poised in a four way standoff, until Cid, who’d grabbed two of the toys, ran up on them all and began firing indiscriminately.

“Why?” Aulea asked carefully. Her eyes momentarily caught Regis’s, but the smile on his face indicated he had no idea of the conversation taking place. He lifted his beer to her in a long distance toast, and she fumbled for her own glass of red wine to return the gesture.

“I’d… I’d feel too guilty, I guess.” Noctis looked at his mother in utter confusion, unable to see why that’d be a question at all. She hummed lightly, and tilted her head to the side.

“Well, your father looks at you, doesn't he?” Aulea had never practiced archery but she knew exactly how to put an arrow through a bullseye.

“Wha?” She felt the shudder of realization rip down his spine as he snapped his head to stare, eyes wide, at his father’s back as he dodged a stray dart and popped the cap off another tall necked amber bottle. Seconds ticked by and Noctis’s face cycled through a series of micro expressions as he obviously reanalyzed every interaction he’d had with Regis since his death.

Was he just now picking up on those extra hard hugs? Was he just now realizing that Regis almost exclusively fed him junk food? The way he materialized if Noctis so much as mentioned him? Had he noticed, but brushed aside, how his father studiously ignored the throne room? How he couldn’t even look at Noctis if he and the other’s were swimming at the Quay?

Aulea had hardly been able to control her own horrified response when they’d gone to the beach for the first time together and Noctis had removed his shirt at Gladio’s teasing. Regis’s hand had clawed around her fingers when he’d turned to grab a towel and they’d spotted the faint, pink, raised line of a scar that stretched down their entirety of his breastbone. She’d never been as thankful for sunglasses as she’d been at that moment, as she knew that the tears welling in her eyes, an undoubtedly in Regis’s as well, would have erased the carefree grin across her boy’s pale face.

“I didn’t think... “ And Aulea wasn’t sure if Noctis was even speaking to her now, or if his thoughts were just leaking from his mouth. But for all of the nights that Aulea and coaxed her husband awake, careful to avoid his flailing limbs, had found him wandering down in the dark corridors at night, nothing seemed to be closing that gaping wound in his heart. There was really only one person who could begin to stitch that closed.

“And imagine, my dear, you only _thought_ you killed Prompto.”

Noctis made a strangled sound and scrambled clumsily to his feet. Aulea let him, and shot a look of warning at Prompto when he skidded to a stop, several darts thwaping unnoticed against the back of his head, to watch as Noctis all but ran across the lawn to his father.

“Lunch is served!” Ignis called, right on cue, poking his head around the corner of the nearby courtyard. Prompto and the rest floated towards where the scent of roasted, garlicky chicken began to float into the air, ignoring how Noctis was pulling a visibly startled Regis to his feet out of respect both for Ignis’s stern expression and Aulea’s less subtle physical pushing towards the open door. Cid offered his arm to Aulea as she descended upon him as the last to trail inside, eager to give Noctis and Regis the privacy they did yet know they were going to need.

“Is this Queen Aulea’s infamous diplomacy at work?” He drawled, purposely dragging his feet. She glanced over her shoulder to where Regis had settled his hand on Noctis’s shoulder. Noctis had his head down, and he was shuffling between the thirty year old King and the twenty year old Prince as he shook under his attempts to vocalize his concerns.

“Of course it is, and unless you wish to see my best authoritarian work, I suggest you pick up the pace, Sophiar.” She hissed. Cid threw his head back to laugh, never one to outwardly show fear, and swept them both inside to the impressive spread that Ignis and Sylva had laid out on her largest, ivory dining table.

“Um…Queen Aulea?”

Aulea’s glare disappeared off her face as she was greeted by a nervous Prompto, flanked by Ignis and Gladio as Cid slipped his arm from hers to throw himself into the seat between Clarus and Odessa.

“Is… is everything, O.K. with Noct and King Regis?” He asked from underneath his thick lashes. Ignis had a comforting hand on his shoulder, and she could have cried at how adorable the trio looked.

“Of course.” She said, unable to resist leaning forward to plant a kiss on his forehead. As always, he looked stunned, frozen by his surprise, before a shy smile spread across his face. She waved with both hands to make Ignis and Gladio dutifully lean down so she could kiss their foreheads as well.

“In fact, I believe things are going to be getting better.” She smiled, “We must simply give them space and privacy.” She tapped them into their seats and gratefully accepted the glass of wine that Odessa passed her once she sat down. Odessa lifted her eyebrow at Aulea over the table and looked pointedly at the empty seats on either side of her. Aulea pursed her lips and shrugged before jutting her chin out in the direction of the yard, blocked from their view by light cream curtains that Ignis had drawn to shelter them from the sun.

“The triplets started school the other day.” Clarus said, gently nudging his wife. Odessa, as Clarus had planned, was immediately distracted.

“Oh, my poor daughter, just wait until they get to high school. Sorrel will have his hands full with that drama.” Odessa sighed.

“I think you're underestimating them.” Cor said, sitting up to grab another wing from the center of the table.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve watched Aster go after Camilla with a palette knife before.” Clarus frowned. Sylva pursed her lips and rest her elbows on the table in interest, smirking at Aulea before tilting her head towards where Lunafreya and Ravus were staring eachother down, each of their hands poised over the last of Ignis’s apricot tartlets.

“Oh yes. They fight, but they never fight harder than against an external threat.” Cor said, voice thick with pride.

“Aren’t they like, five?” Prompto asked.

“Old enough to conduct tactical three pronged strikes against a far larger target.” Cor said, practically gushing.

“They snuck him up beers when he was on bedrest.” Cid clarified.

“And Iris thought it was Sorrel, ah.” Cor shook his head fondly, ignoring the wide eyed stares of confusion that Prompto and Gladio were shooting his way.

Aulea, meanwhile, was ignoring them all and had quietly stood, slipped off her heels and padded out of the dining room, through the palace kitchen and out into the courtyard catty cornered to the yard to peer around a spiraling white marble column at her boys. Unfortunately, she was still too far away to properly eavesdrop, but she could tell by the fat tears staining Noctis’s face that he’d managed to get out whatever he wanted to say to his father. Regis looked older, not quite the pale, stricken man she’d seen on the floor of the Citadel’s lower levels, but old enough that there was grey peppering through his dark hair.

Regis looked up abruptly from where he had Noctis crushed against his chest and his eyes automatically found Aulea. His expression was odd, torn between obviously being upset at her meddling and devastated by whatever conversation had passed between himself and his son. Regis she could talk down later, as she always did, but Noctis?

Noctis’s eight year old eyes suddenly locked on to her as well, and she cursed herself for her terrible hiding place. She was about to dart back behind cover, but Regis released him and the boy took off a sprint straight for her. Immediately, she rushed for him and scooped up the sobbing child as if he weighed nothing at all.

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know you saw!” He cried, his grip an iron vice around her neck. Aulea shifted his weight and looked helplessly at Regis as he made a swift approach.

“The throne room.” Regis explained and Aulea’s expression crumpled.

“It’s alright, my darling, it’s alright.”

“I didn’t want you to see!”

“Noctis. I watched over you for your entire life, why do you think your death would be any different?” She tilted him away from her, breaking his grip on her neck to pepper his face with kisses. Regis wrapped one arm around Aulea’s shoulder and stroked Noctis’s head with his free hand, desperate to soothe his sobbing.

“I didn’t want any of you to see! It’s not fair! I just wanted-! I just wanted it to be over!” He threw himself forward to bury his face in Aulea’s shoulder, soaking her skin with hot tears.

“I know it’s not, I know.” She looked over her pitiful child at Regis. He wore his broken heart on his sleeve, unsure, as he always had been, if what he had done, or what he had said had been the right thing. Had she not had her arms full with Noctis, she would have pulled him in for a hug as well.

“Nothing that happened was fair, but it was, as life always is, beyond our control. We are only given the burdens we can handle, darling, nothing more, nothing less. You, my brave, strong, boy, rose to the challenges of your life, as I rose to mine and your father to his.” Aulea had not yet cried in front of her son, and she wasn’t going to start when Noctis was finally, finally starting to look at her. Tears still streamed down his cheeks, but he was hiccuping now, as opposed to full out sobbing. She cuddled him closer, and rested her cheek atop his head, unconsciously rocking from side to side.

Silently, Ignis approached to hand off a wicker picnic basket to Regis. Aulea smiled at him from over Noctis’s head where he’d dipped it back into her neck. Regis nodded once and shook Ignis’s hand before leading them both the furthest most corner of the yard, to the blanket that Regis and his retinue had been gathered around earlier.

  
“What’s going on?”

Ignis sighed lightly and turned to see Prompto and Gladio peering worriedly from around the kitchen’s archway.

“Noctis is finally dealing with his death.” Ignis replied. For a moment, he considered shoving them both back inside, but with another heavy sigh, he tucked himself behind the pillar that Aulea had attempt to hide behind and peered around it’s smooth surface to watch as Aulea cuddled Noctis, still a child, closer to her chest. He refused the tart his father offered and gripped the front of his mother’s chest with both hands.

“What?”  
“What do you mean?”

“Did he discuss the details of his death with either of you?” Ignis asked. Gladio and Prompto shook their heads. Ignis let out a grumble of displeasure and removed his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“He has not discussed it with anyone. I only discovered what happened when I asked Queen Aulea.” Ignis said, his voice pitched low for an attempt at privacy. Prompto, whose head was hovering somewhere near Gladio’s knees, suggesting he was crouched behind the kitchen’s door, frowned.

“I… Iggy, what happened?”

Ignis told them.

“Holy shit.” Gladio breathed, he slid down to sit on the floor, pushing Prompto out of the way so they were sitting side by side on the doorway to the kitchen. They both leaned forward to peer once again at the family situated at the edge of the lawn and sighed in relief as Noctis was apparently feeling well enough to devour one of Ignis’s chicken wings.

“That’s so awful.” Prompto whispered, one hand fisted into the fabric of his shirt, just over his heart. “He didn’t say anything at all? Was he just going to sit on that, like forever! He didn’t know that King Regis knew? What the hell?”

“The fuck is he supposed to say, Prom? ‘Hey, Dad? About that fact that you _stabbed me in the heart_ that one time? Wanna talk about it?’” Gladio rolled his eyes at Prompto’s stricken expression.

“Poor King Regis, no wonder he was having trouble looking at him.”

“You noticed as well?” Ignis questioned, and Prompto nodded.

“I only noticed after we went to the Quay. Noct has a scar on his chest I’ve never noticed before, but King Regis looked like he’d seen a ghost.” He shrugged.

“I guess Her Majesty noticed as well.” Gladio said, his mouth quirking up into a humorless smirk.

“Aulea notices everything.”

The trio jumped, and looked up to find Cor standing over them, an unamused frown on his face. Despite knowing that they hadn’t really done anything wrong, there was palpable feeling of guilt that settled over the group.

“And if you think she won’t notice you spying, you’re incorrect. Back inside, the lot of you, when they’re ready to return, they’ll return.” He ordered, stepping back to point back towards where the rest of their party was finishing lunch. The boys sulked back inside, mumbling apologies as if they were all just mischievous teenagers again.

Cor watched them leave with his arms crossed, before he allowed a smirk to settle across his features. Satisfied that they were gone, he took a silent step backwards, and peered around the corner for himself. Aulea, as expected, was glancing towards the manor’s most popular hiding spot and he sent a thumbs up her way. She looked down, ensuring that Noctis’s attention was fully focused on his father before returning the gesture.

“Alls wells that end well, I suppose.” He sighed, before hauling himself back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! And thank so much to everyone who's commented! Your feedback gives me life as I continue to stretch out my creative writing fingers.  
> They have been cramped by academia for far too long.  
> Finally, here is Ravus and Sylva.


	9. Dog Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How… how is this even possible.” Talcott whispered, nervously fidgeting with the bill of his cap. “Dogs don’t live for what… forty years?” 
> 
> “Umbra and Pryna aren’t.. weren’t regular dogs.” Iris said, reciting the phrase from memory, “Who knows what happened to them both after… after everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I'm going to get fluff one of these days.  
> I'm gonna write some shit so sweet, y'alls teeth are gonna rot out.  
> Baby steps, I guess.

“Puppy!”

“Dog!”

“Mommy, look a pupper!”

Iris blinked towards her triplets, startled from the pages of the last romance novel of Gladio’s they’d recovered from the Regalia as their voices rose in unison to a delighted fever pitch. Iris carefully folded her bookmark into the yellowing pages and swung her legs around to stand from her worn beach chair.

“Where?” She crossed the distance between herself and her dark haired girls in two short steps and lifted Holly to prop her against her hip in time to see what Iris had once thought was impossible.

Umbra sat before her, tongue lolling as Aster and Camillia peppered the black and white hound with kisses and careful pets through his silky smooth fur.

“Umbra?” Iris gaped, dropping none so gracefully to her knees to tangle her fingers in the thick fur of the dog’s neck. Umbra barked once, startling all three of the girls, before stepping forward to rub the entirely of his body against Iris’s leg. On his back, he wore a small red backpack and Iris, hand shaking, struggled to undo the strap and remove the worn red notebook contained within.

“Let Mommy have her hands.” Iris mumbled, setting Holly back down. The girl whined, but was comforted when Aster reached out to wrap the smallest of the triplets in her arms.

“Puppy!” Aster said, as if there was some wisdom hidden in the single word. Camilla nodded sagely.

“Pupper.”

“Aunt Luna’s puppy!” Holly shouted, and from across the beach, Talcott and Cindy whipped their heads from their own thick novels.

Iris rubbed her hand into Umbra’s thick fur and, with no small amount of hesitation, flipped the worn cover of the diary open. The majority of the notebooks were seemingly glued together, and Iris’s didn’t dare try to pry them apart, but the last few, flirting with the hard cover backing  were loose against her callused fingertips.

There, spreading against her fingertips, were what must have been the last of Prompto’s photos. Stuck to the yellowing pages with child-like stickers were pictures of a smiling Noctis, obviously around thirty, judging by his beard, and a delighted, red-eyed Prompto. They were posed together, heads pressed together in the center of the frame and surrounded by the the ruins of Insomnia. Then, a shot of Ignis and Gladio, again, backed by rubble, but smiling as if they weren’t on their way to their deaths.

“Gods, is that Umbra?” Cindy gasped, dropping into a crouch on Iris’s left, Talcott was silent, and collapsed to his knees on Iris’s right, reaching a reverent hand out to scratch under the dog’s chin.

Umbra let out an excited whine and wiggled from under the triplet’s doting hands to press the entirety of his face into Cindy’s sternum. Cindy wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck and buried her face into his, struggling to right her breathing.

“What? What is he doing here?” Talcott gasped as Camilla darted under his arms. He automatically dragged the toddler into his lap, allowing himself to flop backwards to sit in the sand.

“Well wishes.” Iris read, voice awed. She spun the journal around and displayed the blurry photo of sylleblossoms to her assembled family, and pointed to Gladio’s characteristic scrawl on the bottom of the page. The other page, taken up mostly by a rough sketch of what appeared to be a reconstructed Citadel, was signed as well, and Iris could easily make out Ignis, Prompto and Noctis’s signatures on the bottom right of the page.

“This… this is real?” Cindy gaped, gently taking the notebook from Iris’s shaking hands. Umbra followed the transition and licked at Cindy’s fingers as she tried to peel the other pages of the notebook apart.

“I think so.” Iris said.

“Girls, do you have anything you want to give to Uncle Gladdy?” Iris asked, dazed. All three girls leaped to attention, nodding in unison before darting back towards the beach bags they’d proudly packed themselves.

“How… how is this even possible.” Talcott whispered, nervously fidgeting with the bill of his cap. “Dogs don’t live for what… forty years?”

“Umbra and Pryna aren’t.. weren’t regular dogs.” Iris said, reciting the phrase from memory, “Who knows what happened to them both after… after everything.”

Cindy shot to her feet and sprinted for her purse, tucked under her beach chair to dig through it as the girls came charging back in a cloud of sand and black, curly hair.

“Got it!”

“This!”

“For PawPaw Cor!”

Iris smiled, and kissed each of their chubby cheeks as an old arrow head, a handmade sticker, and a pressed sllyeblossom were passed into her hands. Cindy returned shortly after, holding an expired business licence tightly in her shaking fingers, the first with only her name displayed across the top, and passed it to Iris with a bright smile.

Umbra barked, just once, and Talcott reached out to press his forehead against the dog’s face. Iris pressed each of the objects between two pages before placing the notebook back into Umbra’s backpack.

“You tell them we miss them, alright?” Iris whispered, closing her eyes in the face of Umbra’s constant licking.

“You darlin’ pup, you give them all our love.” Cindy cooed, lacing a leather bound necklace through Umbra’s collar.

“Tell them everything is alright.” Talcott said, dropping kisses to the Shiba Inu’s snout. “Make sure they know that everything is alright here.”

Umbra barked again, as if in confirmation and danced just outside of the girls’s grabbing hands.

“Puppy!”

“No, come back!”

“No, Pupper!”

“It’s alright, girls.” Iris soothed as her daughters threw themselves against her neck, distraught at the loss of their canine companion, “Umbra has to go see Uncle Noctis now.”  

“-he always leaves!”

“-all the time!”

“-always!”

“Always?” Iris asked, climbing to her feet. As expected, Holly held fast to her neck neck, unwilling to be left on the sand like her sisters.

"-our birthday!”

“-the Dawn Festival!’

“-but then he leaves!”

“Who?”  Cindy asked, bending to scoop up Aster.

“-Umbra!”

“-PawPaw!”

“-Uncle Gladdy!”

“PawPaw?” Talcott said, lifting Camillia into his arms. She, ever the actress, flopped backwards and wailed.

“-PawPaw Cor!”

“-PawPaw Cid!” Aster cried.

“-Grandpa!” Holly joined.

Iris, Cindy and Talcott exchanged wet, shocked stares.

“Do they… say anything?” Talcott asked.

“No!”

"- too quiet!”

“- can’t hear!”

“Are they.. Are they scary?” Cindy asked next.

“No!” The girls cried in unison, “They never stay! Never! Never!”

“I’m gonna be honest here,” Talcott said, watching as the Umbra turned into a black dot on the hills overlooking the Quay. “I have no idea what to do with this information.”

“I reckon we tuck it away for a rainy day.” Cindy said, shifting Aster’s wiggling form from one hip to the other. She’d mostly gone silent, but continued to let of a low whine periodically, threatening tears, but not actually delivering.

“Um, yeah. Yeah.” Iris said, blinking through a mass of emotions.

“Can we have a puppy?” Holly whispered against her shoulder, and when Iris looked down to gaze into her daughter's, wide, earnest amber eyes, she didn’t have the heart to say no.


	10. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and the wonderful, amazing, so good, perfect day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, this is fluff right?

Prompto didn’t jerk awake anymore, not after so long in the Beyond, so as he cleared the sleep from his eyes he gently became aware that he was was being carried, slumped over someone’s shoulders with a pair of large hands gripping his thighs. His vision was full of white blond hair, which eliminated the usual suspects, and, since the thought of Luna carrying him was laughable he was confident when he mumbled out his best guess.

“Ravus?”

“Is he alive?” Noctis called. Prompto glanced to his left and grinned helplessly as he spotted Lunafreya clinging to Noctis’s back. She tilted the bill of Noctis’s ballcap away from her face and smiled in greeting.

“No.” Ravus replied dryly, “I suspect we’re all still dead.”

Ignis snorted from where he was lugging camping gear several paces ahead, his unoccupied hand clasped tightly in his mother’s grip. Pluvia was chatting excitedly, too fast and too quiet to be clearly heard, but distracted enough to allow Ignis to patiently steer her around rocks and other small obstacles.

“Your funny bone never grew in, I fear.” Lunafreya sighed dramatically. She hooked her chin over Noct’s shoulder and smirked with the petty cruelty only siblings can muster at her brother. Ignoring his sister and Noctis’s snickering, Ravus paused and crouched to allow Prompto to slip from his shoulders and handed him one of the heavy wicker baskets he’d been carrying.

“You and Lunafreya fell asleep on the drive and refused to wake upon our arrival. We determined it would be more efficient to simply carry you both to the haven.” Ravus explained.

“‘Preciate it, bro.” Prompto said.

At the bottom of the grassy, flower covered hill, Clarus, Odessa and Gladio were already setting up the tents while Regis and Aulea popped open their camping chairs around the firepit. It was going to be a close fit, since everyone had decided to come, but nobody seemed to mind. In fact, Prompto thought that the mood was rather… unusual.

Cid and Cor were gathering firewood in companionable silence, carrying back their bundles to pile them between the various tents without their usual, harmless banter. Everyone else was quiet as well; there was no sense of unease in the silence, however, just an overwhelming feeling of peace. It was the comfortable silence that feel between friends where nothing really _needed_ to be said.

Ignis and his father set up the camping stove, trading small, pleased smiles, and began to prep for lunch as Cid trailed behind Noctis as he headed further down the hill towards the river, his fishing pole already in his hand.

Sylva and her husband were chatting with Regis and Aulea as they opened up several bottles of pink and white wine when suddenly Gladio, with the look of someone who had just remembered something important, retreated into his tent and retrieved and old, battered guitar.

When Odessa caught sight Prompto’s raised eyebrow she threw a proud smile his way and gestured towards her son as he settled on the stone edge of the haven, feet dangling over the edge to kick idly at the glowing runes engraved in its surface. After a moment of idly plucking at the strings, apparently checking its tune, Gladio sucked in a deep breath and  began to pluck out an easy, jaunty tune.

Luna stood after a moment of tapping her feet and pulled her brother up and out of his camping chair. He smiled indulgently, and blew a huff of breath to knock a stray lock of hair from his eyes where it’d fallen from his half-bun and before twirling his sister in a graceful waltz. They were a picture of regal grace in dusty jeans as they spun about in the ankle high wildflowers. Odessa, Sylva and Aulea shared a look before pulling their husbands to their feet to join in the dance.

Gladio smiled, his shoulders relaxing as he watched the age drip from the adults assembled below. Hair darkened and grew wild and full, and the dignified wrinkles across his father’s brow disappeared as they regressed to a company of twenty-somethings, waltzing without a dancefloor in perfect time.

“Makes it all worth it, doesn’t it.” Cor said. Prompto, who had plopped himself down next to Gladio, cast a curious glance up at the formal Marshall. Cor stood with his feet shoulders width apart, not quite at parade rest with his hands settled on his hips.But despite his posture, his face was full of overwhelming affection. He looked so young with his lips curled up, eyes slightly squinting in the bright sunlight and with the dappled light streaming through the leaves behind him, Prompto was tempted to snap his picture. But some things couldn’t be captured on film, so Prompto took it all in, the way Cor’s shoulder’s relaxed just a little further, how his hair grew just a little longer, and allowed that image, as if were the first time Cor was allowing himself to really, truly relax, burn itself into his memory.

“How cruel to leave me partnerless.” Pluvia pouted and as Cor turned to look at her, he even _laughed._  Honest to Gods, a full on, head thrown back, adam’s apple bouncing, baritone laugh.

“Ah, what the hell.” He shrugged, before offering his hand to. She smiled, loose and easy, and allowed Cor to help her jump down into the grass to slot themselves into the concentric circle of dancers.

Prompto raised his camera, and panned from the river, where Noctis was showing off a huge salmon to Cid, to how Ignis and his father diced vegetables in sync, to Gladio’s calloused fingers, smoothly flowing from one song into another, never once breaking the rhythm of the dancers below. The sunlight caught their smiles, all teeth, and he was suddenly hit by a wave of contentment so strong it made his eyes prickle. He slipped off the smooth rock of the haven, and walked backwards up the hill until he captured the entire scene within frame.

“Picture perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! And thank you for commenting as well! You're feedback feeds me!


	11. Brothers in Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and Ignis arrived just as they'd left, hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE, FRIENDS.  
> Thought'd you seen the last of me? Or... uh, this?  
> Yeah, me too.  
> But HEYOO.

Gladio hadn’t realized how tightly he’d clenched his eyes shut in the moment before he’d forced his arm to sling his last resort, his last spell, to the broken concrete in front of the Citadel until he’d opened his eyes and had to blink stars from his vision. For a long moment he stared straight ahead, dazed and frozen in impossible daylight, in bright beautiful sunshine.

It wasn’t until he heard a strangled gasp from beside him, felt the hand still clasped in his own tighten to a painful degree, that his mind allowed him to acknowledge of the reality of what he was seeing. It was the Citadel, but not as he’d last seen it; shattered in the rain, Prompto a broken, twisted shape on the steps above him, his blood dripping down fractured steps. This Citadel was whole, safe, the windows reflecting a sparkling blue sky, free from the iridescent shimmer of the Wall.

A quick stock of himself revealed that he didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore, the undoubtedly fatal wounds that had numbed his fingers and rendered his leg nearly uselessly were missing.

Like Noct was missing.

Like Prompto.

But Ignis’s hand was still held within his own, so there was that.

“I dare say we made it.” Ignis said, but his voice was thick and shaking, and when Gladio turned to him, he was staring directly into clear, mossy green eyes. Eyes that were very clearly _seeing_ him, if perhaps a little blurrily, as they were quickly filling with tears. Ignis blinked, half squinting in the light and brought his hands to Gladio’s face, mapping it as he had learned to do in the Dark.

“Yeah,” Gladio breathed, a tremulous smile shaking his lips, “Yeah, I think we did. You-- you can?”

“I can, yes, I can.” Ignis said, “ _Astrals_! Gladio! You look just like your father.”

“Where is Prompto? Noctis?” Ignis turned suddenly, spine snapping straight as he spun a full 360 degrees in search of their missing party members. He raised his voice as he called out again, “Noctis! Prompto!”

Something in Gladio’s chest pulled him up the steps and he reached out to urge Ignis up with a touch to his elbow. Ignis responded automatically, taking the steps quickly, even as he continued to swivel his head back and forth, searching and observing.

“They must be here.” Ignis said, “There is no world, no realm in which we are not together.”

“Awfully poetic,” Gladio snorted, mindlessly following the pull in his gut.

“It is truth.”

“I know.” He soothed.

“Gladiolus!”  

Both men froze, hands flying to where their weapons no longer were as a voice boomed out from the top landing of the steps. However, as Gladio took in the figure standing there, both of her hands shaking where they were hovering over her mouth, his arms dropped from his defensive stance like bricks.

“Mom?”

Ignis took a step back, a warning on his lips as a blonde blur blitzed down the stairs to rip Gladio up and straight off his feet. He had half a mind to be alarmed, but confusion won out as he realized that the young boy being crushed against a woman almost as tall as --oh Gods, Clarus Amicitia was coming down the steps now-- with blonde, cascading curls that would have put Cindy to shame was in fact, Gladio. A tiny, now sobbing, version of the hulking shield.

But Clarus was still descending the stairs, obviously coming to Ignis, and Ignis put one fist over his heart and bowed. “Lord Amicitia.”

“Ignis.” Clarus smiled, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough to nearly send him flying, “It’s good to see you, son. Circumstances being what they are, of course. But we’ll get to that later.” He glanced at where his wife was swinging Gladio back and forth in her arms, cooing and petting his puffs of hair and smiled. Ignis recognized Odessa from photographs, young and radiant, golden skin a beautiful contrast to just how pale her hair was. Her eyes, the same bright brown of her son’s, slid over to Ignis and he automatically returned her watery smile.

“This is from your parents.” Clarus said, rolling his shoulders as he remembered himself and handed Ignis a thick, pale grey envelope. “No rush, there is quite literally nothing but time here.”

“My parents?” Ignis looked down at the envelope clenched in his fingers and felt his mind fill with memories of school lunches emblazoned with the same sprawling script, birthday tags and chalkboards covered in hastily scribbled notes. He knew this handwriting.

His mother’s handwriting.

“It’s alright.” Clarus said.

“We’re dead, sir?” Ignis traced his name across the front of the envelope, swallowing the sound that threatened to escape as he realized that his mother still, _still, pressed_  far too hard on the paper.

“Yes.” Clarus confirmed.

“Where is Noctis?” Ignis asked, “Prompto?”

“I don’t know,” Clarus said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I know who will though.”

Gladio suddenly squirmed in his mother's arms and she reluctantly let him down, still making small sounds that, in Ignis's opinion were unlikely to stop for the foreseeable future. But as Gladio stood back up and began to ascend the steps leading to his father, he smoothly transitioned up from a small, watery eyed child, through a grim teenager that Ignis recognized, past the twenty two year old that'd struggled to protect his king, to the thirty-two year old who'd lost him.

“Sir,” Gladio said, smiling wryly. He crossed his arms across his chest and pressed his fist to his heart, a Crownsguard salute, and bowed to his father. “I’m sorry, I tried.”

To Gladio's visible shock, his father returned the gesture. “As did I, my son.”

Clarus, younger than Gladio had ever seen him, stepped forward and pulled his son into his arms. Gladio was stiff for only a moment before he all but collapsed into his father's chest, burying his face into the junction between his neck and shoulder.

“I'm so proud of you, Gladiolus, unspeakably so.” Clarus said as Gladio's broad shoulders began to shake. Odessa laid a hand upon Ignis's shoulder and leaned to press a kiss against his stunned temple before moving to wrap her arms around her son's back.

Ignis took his opportunity to slip away, confident without knowing why that he would easily find him again, and stepped up the rest of the stairs and into the blinding bright lobby of the Citadel.

It was, comfortingly, exactly how he remembered, even if it was deserted. All cool marble, massive murals, not a crack in sight. No debris, no suspicious warping of the flooring under his feet. A single stomp ensured that even the echo was the same.

“Ignis!”

He spun, and found himself look down at a petite auburn haired woman dressed in a familiar sapphire gown. Atop her right ear, a golden match to King Regis's silver horned crown glittered in the sunlight. She smiled warmly at him, her eyes the same shade as her son's and grasped his forearms.

"Queen Aulea.” Ignis tried to bow but her grip was too firm. Instead she pulled him in with a strength he wasn't expecting down and into her arms.

“Just Aulea, my dear! Oh, dear Ignis! It is so, so good to meet you!” She cried, pulling back to place both of her hands on his cheeks. She turned his face side to side, lingering where he knew a massive scar had once splashed across his face before releasing him.

“Clarus gave you your mother's letter! Good. Have you read it?” She asked, gesturing to the envelope he still had clenched in his hand. At the reminder, he loosened his grip.

“Not yet, Your Majesty.” She quirked her lip to the side, a tiny movment of displeasure as he referred to her by title that  was so very _Noctis._

“Aulea,” He corrected, “Is he? Is Noctis--”

“Yes,” She said, “He's here. In fact...” She looked behind her and flicked her hair over her shoulder, squinting in concentration down the corridor that had once lead towards the back gardens.

“Stay right here. Read your letter, and as you do so, imagine that you are writing a reply. Your mother will get it. Don’t wander.” Aulea said, and Ingis tipped forward at the command.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He said, and he heard her let out a huff of breath. But he had his eyes glued to the slightly crumpled envelope in his palms as the click of her heels took off down the hallway. He slipped the envelope open, careful not to rip it and pulled out the crisply folded light grey cardstock.

_Ignis,_

_My darling, brave boy. Welcome to the afterlife! Your father and I are waiting for you at home. Take your time, I know this can be a touch overwhelming. When you are ready, think of us and you'll find your way back._

_I can't wait to share my findings with you!_

_We shall have a feast when you arr--_

“Ignis!”

Ignis grunted as he was barreled into, nearly dropping the letter, but the voice that accompanied the barrage pulled a single, aborted sob from his throat. He crushed his charge, a twenty years old Noctis Lucis Caluem to his chest, and heaved an uneven sigh into the chaos of his midnight hair.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Iggy.” Noctis said miserably. “You guys weren’t-- I was the only one who was supposed to--”

“Cease your apologies.” Ignis said, pulling back to run his fingers, shaking with relief, over Noctis’s face, through his hair, down his shoulders. “There is no world without you in it.”

“Specs, Iggy- “ Noctis tried, but Ignis shook his head and leveled _The Look_ at him. He was sure his misting eyes took much if its effects away, but Noctis fell silent.

Ignis didn’t know if he’d ever see him again, if Noctis even _existed_ anymore after he’d watched him crumble into ash and crystal.

“It is over, yes?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah, it's--we did it. It's over.” Noctis breathed, as if stunned with the reality himself.

“I once told you that a king pushes ever onward, never looking back. It remains truth. Do attempt to follow my advice Noct, just this once.” Ignis said, pulling back enough to cradle Noctis’s cheeks in his hands.

They were dry, but Noctis was pressing his lips together in a move Ignis recognized.

“Noct!”

Gladio's arms, as only Gladio could wrap them both up in within his wingspan, nearly lifted them both off their feet as Gladio released a great, booming breathless laugh. Immediately, Noctis's breath hitched, the battle he’d been waging against his emotions lost, and tears fell against Ignis hands as the prince laced his arms through Ignis's to grind the heel of his palma to his eyes.

“Hey, what's this?  A shield doesn't outlive his king, you know that.” Gladio rumbled.

“It was supposed to only be me, that was the deal, just _me_.”

“We were to remain by your side, that was the _deal._ ” Ignis soothed.

“Where’s Prompto?”

“We, uh, we haven’t seen him.” Gladio said.

“Did.. did he make it?”

Ignis shot a look over Noctis’s head as Gladio winced. Ignis hadn’t been able to see him, splayed out on the steps like Gladio had. He hadn’t had to see Prompto’s face slack and pale, eyes wide open, his camera dangling from the worn leather strap on his wrist, where it must have tumbled from lifeless hands. Ignis hadn’t seen the hole punched through Prompto’s uniform, or the blood that soaked the steps the cradled him.

“Maybe.” Gladio said.

“Is Lunafreya here?” Ignis asked, going for a distraction.

“Yeah,” Noctis sniffed, attempting a smile as he extracted himself from the tangle of arms.

“You guys wanna go meet her?”

“Oh yeah,” Gladio smirked, “Cough up the goods, loverboy.”

Noctis halfheartedly shoved the shield, but motioned for them to follow him deeper within Citadel.

“Let’s _attempt_ decorum in front of the Lady.” Ignis sighed.

“It’s useless,” Noctis sighed over his shoulder, “They’ve all been watching us the whole time.”

“ _What?!_ ”

(Later, Ignis had retreated to the palace kitchens to “refamiliarize himself,” which they all knew meant that he was actually just going to attempt to compartmentalize the last twenty four hours (or so. Time, they’d discovered, flowed strangely.) via frantic baking session.

Gladio had walked in, drawn the smell of cooling snickerdoodles, to find Noctis and Ignis tightly wrapped around a weepy, smiling, goatee-less Prompto.

“Gladdy!” Prompto exclaimed, wiggling one arm free to wave at where Gladio was frozen in the doorway. Ignis, recognizing the warring emotions on Gladio’s face, stepped back just as Gladio crossed the room in three short strides to crush the blonde against his chest. Noctis let out a shrill, but ignored, ‘hey!’ as he was pushed aside. Prompto, to his credit, returned the embrace just as fiercely, as he could distinctly remember the devastated roar that Gladio had made when he’d fallen.

“Hey, pipsqueak.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so so so much for reading!


	12. Lifelong Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis goes home.

Ignis heaved a sigh and thunked his forehead against where his hands were resting against the steering wheel. His mother’s letter, the first one he’d received, the paper of which was soft from repetitive folding and unfolding, was dangling from his fingertips.

 _Take your time!_ The letter had ended in his father’s neat print. _We know you have business to attend to, we’ll be here whenever you’re ready._

And Astrals bless his father because the man had been right, as always. Ignis had needed _time_ . He needed time to come to some semblance of terms with all that had happened, he needed time to learn the new ground rules of their home. The warping, the aging on demand (or not). He’d needed time to relax enough to allow Noctis out of his sight without the heartstopping fear that it was all some sort of dream that had him popping in on the former prince at.... _inopportune_ moments. He’d needed the time to get used to Lunafreya’s presence and King Regis. He’d needed time to get used to Aulea’s unannounced affections, Cor's easy smile and Clarus's casual demeanor.

Eventually, King Regis and Noctis had decided to take a father-son trip to visit Mors, Regis’s father, who’d apparently settled in Lestallum. Ignis had, as he’d watched the Regalia fly from the steps of the Citadel, decided that he was ready to go home.

Aulea had met him in the Citadel’s garage and handed him the keys to the Star of Lucis, Noctis’s car, a sizable basket of wine (that he was honestly impressed that she’d carried as if it weighed nothing) and a message.

“Give your parents my love,” She said as he bent automatically to give her access to his cheek. She, as always, planted a crimson imprint of her lips there. “Oh, and tell your father that _I win._  He’ll understand.”

Ignis didn’t understand at all, but he’d bowed anyway, allowing a “Yes, Your Majesty,” to slip out just to watch her pout and went on his way. He’d followed his mother’s advice, allowing the happier memories of home to fill his mind and guide his hands as he sailed over the blacktop and into the hills of Duscae.

He’d arrived faster than he thought he would, which he automatically attributed to the afterlife’s strange and frankly arbitrary, rules. The Star was almost silent as it creeped up the gravel driveway, past the lines of white barked trees and their flowing yellow petals. Up towards the house with it’s bright red door, yellow shutters. Just as he remembered. The paneling looked better now, snow white as if it’d been freshly painted, just like the picket fence that bordered the rosebushes all along the front.

That had been five minutes ago, and Ignis was still parked in the driveway, hiding in the car like a child, swallowing down truly illogical anxiety. His parents loved him, they were going to ecstatic to see him. And yet?

Ignis made a small sound of frustration and got out of the car, closing the door carefully behind him and looked up at the second story window that had once been his bedroom.  But he was distracted by the sound of music wafting from around the house.

Ignis followed the sound of music around the east side of the house, over the wide stepping stones that he, his father and Brucker, the gardener, had laid out together one balmy spring morning before everything had gone to hell. He passed by the isolated, raised bed that his father had grown mountain of mint in, its tenacity reaching a near legendary level before he'd been forced to move the thing.  Ignis could remember hiding in the fragrant bush as a child, steeping himself in the scent.

He'd still favored the crisp, clean smell. Even on their disastrous road trip, he'd always tried to keep a stock of mint gum to refresh his breath after pounding down yet another can of Ebony.

As he rounded towards the back, he found himself in the middle of a sizable herb garden, neatly arranged in rows with hand carved and painted signs.The stone path wound its way through them all, leading to the obvious source of the music. A record player was resting upon a short, wooden table, crooning out a violin solo into the midday breeze for the barrel chested man carefully collecting bundles of thyme.

His back was to Ignis, but Ignis knew that sandy blond hair, the bright green gardening gloves over hands that were callused and burnt from a lifetime the kitchen. Ignis could remember climbing onto the broad back, hanging from his shoulders as he pretended not to notice his giggling backpack.

“Father?”

The basket tumbled to the ground, gardening sheers dropped in shock and Ignis struggled to maintain his older, dignified appearance. He wanted to greet his father as the man he'd become, even as he could feel a sudden spike of anxiety threatening to shorten limbs as it so often did to Prompto, even now.

Ventus Scientia turned and stood, movements steady and smooth, even as his hands began to shake as he ripped off his gloves. He made a beeline for Ignis, tromping through the garden, heedless of the destruction his boots wrought in the carefully cultivated collection, eyes raking over his son.

“Ignis. My boy.” Ventus breathed, snatching his son, who was at least a head taller, down and into his arms.

“I apologise for the delay--” Ignis began, even as he curled over his father, struggling now as he felt their height difference begin to shift.

“Do not apologize. Don't _ever_ apologize, my brilliant son.” Ventus said, pulling back to stare directly into Ignis's face. Obviously, he'd failed to maintain his thirty year old frame but his father was stroking his hair, his cheeks, one hand cupping where the expanse of a scar had once laid and he couldn't find the will to care.

“I-” Ignis swallowed, “I missed you.”

“And I you, dear, dear Ignis. It is I who am sorry. The gods have no kindness for man. What was done to you and your friends is beyond the pale. I'd have given my life to have saved you from it.” Ventus said, and although his dark eyes were rapidly misting, he maintained an air of practiced calm.

“You did give your life.” Ignis said.

He could, despite his best efforts, remember the night it happened vividly. Feel the heat of fire, the hollow sounds of bullets thudding into drywall. Shattering glass and startled screams. He could remember his father's face as his mother dragged him away, the small sad smile as he tried to calm an increasingly hysterical Ignis and  closed the door between them. The same thing his mother had done as she had all but thrown him into Bruker’s arms, kissed his forehead and closed the front door behind her.

“Have you seen your mother?” Ventus asked instead of a reply.

* * *

 

“Ventus, my dearest, perhaps the seafood risotto tonight, I have a good feeling about tonight.”  

Pluvia Scientia, the scholar, the artist, the mother, was hunched over her desk facing the large window in the east of her workshop-slash-study. She was too lost in her notes, flipping through what could easily have been hundreds of books and papers and notebooks in various stages of completion scattered around the chipped mahogany workspace to register that there had been two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs instead of one.

Strawberry blonde hair was pinned atop her head with several pens, one of which she fished out, absently pulling a hunk out about her face as she made a furious set of scribbles on what appeared to be a scrap of paper sticking out of a thick, leather bound tome.

“What do you say? Have you been in the garden? You reek of rosemary-”

“I say you’re right, as per usual.” Ventus said gently, urging Ignis, who’d again, through force of will, reclaimed his older visage, forward and in front of him.

Pluvia turned, the ever amused, warm smile of Ignis’s memories slipping from her face as her eyes widened, then abruptly filled with tears. Her lips stretched into something fragile as Ignis took a few hesitant steps forward.

“Hello, Mother.”

Pluvia flew across the room, knocking her chair clean over, sending the majority of the work on her desk clamouring to the floor as she swept Ignis into her arms. Their height was similar at this age, but she pulled him down, curling around his shuddering frame with a sharp inhale with immediately dissolved into loud, full body sobs.

“Ignis! Hello! Hello, my darling! My brilliant son! Welcome home!” She cried, pulling back to pepper his face with kisses, lingering, like his father had, on where he'd once bared a scar.

“Ventus! Look at our boy! Such a handsome young man!” This at least, was something he remembered as his mother, torn between smothering him against her chest and covering his face with kisses essentially shook him like a ragdoll.

Perhaps it was that, the familiarity of it all, the smell of vanilla and sawdust in her office, the wet chuckle of his father, that finally outdid his efforts. Between breaths he found himself hauled into his mother's arms, feet dangling from the floor as he realized, just before tears took his breath away, that like Gladio he'd been reduced to a child.

“I'm so proud, so proud.” Pluvia was saying, even as tears continued to plop onto his glasses, his cheeks, into his hair, from where she was crying over him. “You did so well. They did not deserve you! What I would have done to keep you with us, except of course that would have meant your death as well.”

At the reminder, Ignis cried harder and Ventus removed his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Pluvia, we _agreed_.” He sighed.

“Apologies!” She said, rubbing the tears gently from under Ignis's eyes, “Apologies, little chef.”

“It's alright,” Ignis sniffed, “Apologies are mine, I wished to remain at an appropriate age for our reunion. Her Majesty has gifted us some very fine wines.”

Pluvia cooed, and hefted Ignis higher onto her hip. “What kindness, and one I dare say I am in need of. What a fantastic day! My son _and_ royal wine! Come, little chef, let's go investigate. Then you shall tell me all of your adventure.”

“Seven year olds don't drink wine.” Ventus said and Pluvia turned to glare at him and hugged Ignis closer. Ignis rested his head against her shoulder and felt her relax as she slipped her fingers into his hair.

“Of course not, Ven, do you think me daft?”

“I think you sentimental, my love.” He snorted, bending around her as they reached the kitchen to plant a kiss on Ignis's cheek before he went outside to retrieve the basket of wine.

“How are the others adapting?” Pluvia asked, setting Ignis down at the breakfast nook in the bright, open kitchen. Everything was exactly how he remembered, from the large marble island, the pots and pans hanging just above, the footstool for his father. His first essay, a mess of pure nonsense truly, was still hanging from its place of honor on the fridge. He turned and glanced out the bay window into the backyard, unable to hide his smile at the meadow he found there.

“As well as to be expected.” Ignis replied, he closed his eyes, thought of the body he'd studied in the mirror this morning, and smoothly transitioned back to an age more appropriate for such conversations. Which was apparently old enough to drink, as his father showed no hesitation as he handed Ignis a glass of wine. “Gladio's taking it all in stride, but he has an uneasy look when he thinks no one is watching. I suspect he feels guilty regardless of the fact that he knew that nothing could have been done to… to save Noctis. Prompto seems well enough, but has not yet found his adoptive parents. And Noctis is happy with Lady Lunafreya, but he will not speak of any of it.”

"Streching the definition of 'well' I think, my dear." Pluvia blinked, her delicate eyebrows rising nearly to her hairline as she took a single deliberate sip from her wine glass. Ignis knew the weight of that stare, and he cleared his throat, eager to change the subject.

“Oh, Queen Aulea said to tell you, father, that she won?”

“Oh, I know she did.” Ventus smiled, “I already have her basket ready for when you head back.”

“And the nature of the bet?” Pluvia asked, reaching out to tangle her hand in Ignis's.

“The pattern she has witnessed indicated that Ignis would revert to a little boy when he saw us. I bet stubbornness would keep him in whichever age he'd chosen to meet us in.” Ventus shrugged and Ignis's cheeks burned.

“I am glad you lost.” Pluvia sang, the only thing missing was her tongue pointing out at him. “Aulea said Noctis looked like he had when he left on their trip, twenty or so, not thirty.”

“It doesn't quite count,” Ventus said. Pluvia sputtered in disbelief and had opened her mouth to reply when Ignis spoke up, voice wobbling.

“I understand,” Ignis said, returning his father's small, dim smile, “Noctis only got to be thirty for a day and a half.”

Ventus scooted around the nook and draped his arm over his son's shoulders as they began to shake and shrink, allowing him to pull the child into his lap. Pluvia, with her hand still in Ignis's scooted to press herself against her husbands side to maintain contact.

“I am so glad that it is over.” Ignis said, “I waited so, so long for it to be done and now? Now I scarcely know what to do with myself.”

“Have you attempted relaxing?” Ventus asked.

 _"I don't know how!_ ”

“Then there is hope for you yet,” Pluvia said kindly, “You still have something to learn.”

“In that case,” Ignis sniffed, “I look forward, as always, to our lessons.”


	13. The Commodore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea wasn't expecting to arrive at the Citadel, but if there's snacks she's not complaining.

Ignis took a steadying breath, rolled his shoulders back and frowned as they cracked and popped in protest.

His glasses were beginning to slip down his nose, the faintest of tickles the only indication of their slow downwards slide, but he couldn’t afford to fix them now. He was almost done.

He carefully twisted his wrist, the smallest of flicks as he moved the piping bag, heavy with freshly made frosting over the final rose on the topmost tier of the cake. Faintly, he heard the sound of heels clicking into the kitchens, but the stride length was too long for Queen Aulea, the steps too slow to be Odessa and too loud to be Lunafreya, who’d taken to either going barefoot, like the queen, or wearing soft flats. At once, his mind supplied the name, a decade of blindness having forced him to memorize such details to aid in the recognition of his friends and allies.

“Good morning, Aranea.” Ignis said, eyes and mind still focused on the cake in front of him. He picked up the green frosting bag, preparing to pipe out leaves when the footprints stopped and his mind stuttered to a halt.

“After all this time, that’s still a neat little trick Four-Eyes.”

“Aranea!” Ignis’s hands reflexively crushed the piping bag in shock, sending an explosive splurt of bright green buttercream all over his labor of the past day and a half. He snapped his head up, eyes widening at the lopsided smirk she leveled at him, one hip cocked against the opposite counter.

She was, as always, beautiful. Her hair was down, flowing in ashen waves just past her shoulders in a style that softened the usual sharpness of her expression. Her face was unlined and young, not that he really expected anyone to arrive in the Beyond as old and weathered as they’d left the mortal world, but she seemed about the same age as she was when they’d first met.

“Good to see you seeing.” She smiled and Ignis immediately drew himself up, setting down his piping bag and shaking off his shock to smile back. She stepped forward and tapped his forearm before pulling him in for a surprisingly tight, but brief embrace. “Good to see you breathing, really.”

“So you are aware then, of where you are?” Ignis asked.

“Oh yeah.” Aranea drawled, stepping to the side to pick up some of the frosting debris with her finger. She popped her finger in her mouth and nodded in approval. “Dead as a doornail, if I’m talking to you inside the mighty, mighty Citadel.”

“Excellent.” Ignis said, “Some who arrive are unaware.”

“How?” She scoffed.

“If one dies in their sleep, for example. Or if it’s sudden or unexpected.”  He said, watching as Aranea reached out to pick up a discarded spatula and scrape the frosting from the table.

“This is good.” She said.

“It _was_ going to be a birthday cake.”

“For who?”

“Lady Lunafreya.”

Aranea's eyes went soft, losing the backlighting of mischief and she finished cleaning the spatula with an efficient swipe of her tongue. “Still sweet too, huh?”

“I found death less transformative than anticipated.” Ignis shrugged. The cake was salvageable, but it was going to be far more colorful than his original design of simply white with pink roses.

“Who else have you seen?” Ignis asked.

“Just you.” She said. Her smirk grew as she watched as a subtle flush crept up his neck.

“I see.” He said, “I’m honestly surprised Aulea didn’t catch you first. Regardless, Prompto will be beyond delighted. Shall we?”   He motioned towards the door with a sweeping gesture, confident his cake would survive his absence simply because he willed it to. Aranea snatched his arm as she passed, folding it over her own as if he were properly escorting her and smirked.

“I think I had a heart attack.” She began, taking in the bright, high ceiling hallways, ones that she’d once envisioned as small,cramped and dark. She wasn’t expecting so many windows, wasn’t expecting sunlight to stream in from picture perfect gardens. “I was feeling strange all day, so I went to bed then woke up here.”

“Not the worst way to go, I daresay.”

“No,” She said, squeezing his arm lightly and thinking of Cor Leonis gently, so, so gently, lifting a quartet of bodies into the bed of Talcott’s truck, “Not the worst way.”

Ignis guided them out of an open set of floor to ceiling double doors, out into a covered breezeway which, as far as she could tell, spanned the entire length of the building. Beyond the gardens was a battlement, as expected. What was unexpected, however, was the number of people lounging around the wide, perfect lawn they approached.

Some she recognized, Clarus Amicitia, the Shield, Regis, the former king. She recognized Gladio of course, all of them sprawled on their backs, practice swords abandoned in a pile at Lady Lunafreya’s feet where she, along with two women she didn't recognize, a blonde and a brunette, were attempting to pile as many flowers onto a sleeping Noctis’s face as possible.

“Aranea!”

Prompto however, had spotted them as soon as they walked through the doors and was bounding towards them in a manner that mirrored the dogs that ran at his heels.

Aranea dropped Ignis’s arm to step forward and lift Prompto right off his feet, spinning him in a circle, laughing as he yelped in surprise.

“Hey, kid!”

The words were supposed to be teasing and light, but Aranea's grip was a just hair too tight, arms just barely trembling when she pulled Prompto away to pat his cheeks.

“When did you get here? What happened?” Prompto asked. He placed his hands on her shoulders, mirroring her pose before lifting his hand to her wrist to pull her towards the rest of the group, which had now gathered in a loose circle.

“Just now, I think? I think it was a heart attack, felt strange, went to bed and woke up to the smell of cake.”

“Ignis's baking is legendary around here.” Lunafreya said, smiling as she continuously poked a still half asleep Noctis into sitting up.

“Aranea? Commodore Highwind?” Clarus asked.

“The one and only.”

Clarus leaned forward, resting his weight on one hand to extend the other. Aranea shook it with a smile.

“Heard lots of good things.” Clarus said, “Cor thinks highly of you.”

“He's here too?”

“Oh yes, he and Cid went on a little trip out to Hammerhead, but they'll be back for dinner, I suspect. Oh! I'm Odessa, Clarus has the honor of being my husband. I’m Glady’s mom.” Odessa said, shaking Aranea's hand as well.

“Introductions are in order!” Aulea said. “Proper introductions, word of mouth doesn't suffice, don't give me that look Clarus. I'm Aulea, this is my husband, Regis. You know the boys, and this is Lunafreya. The black dog is Umbra, and the white is Pryna.”

“Aranea, it’s good to see you.” Noctis said, finally roused. He was surrounded by flowers but he paid the shower of soft blue, pink and yellow petals no mind as he reached out to shake her hand. She’d never admit it, but she found the image of him, young, surrounded by friends and family and covered in flowers to be as close to her idea of heaven as could be. She hadn’t known him well, but it settled something in her heart to see him happy after seeing the destruction the God’s had wrought on him. After seeing the slash carved through the front of his suit, after watching Cor lean for a long moment against the bed of Talcott’s truck, staring at his bloodstained hands. 

Ignis announced that he was going to fetch some drinks, and everything was _perfect_. 

“Cor’s gonna be so happy to see you!” Prompto gushed, he’d pressed himself against her left side and she slung an arm around his shoulders, more than happy to let his voice, ringing loudly through her ears, cement the fact that _this_ was her new reality.

“He better, that old fart. He owes me.” She hissed.

Gladio, who’d been frowning at his phone, looked up at the venom in her voice. “What’d he do?”

“He died.” Aranea said, “ _On vacation._ ”

Ignis returned then, carrying a basket of wine in one hand and glasses other and began distributing like he'd been doing it for ages. He handed her a glass and she tapped his shoulder once before leaning over and kissing his cheek. 

Noctis began smirking but before he could speak, Aranea continued.  “I had to talk about _feelings_ , it was awful. The kids were heartbroken. Sorrel had apparently had the everything-dies-eventually talk, but the triplets hadn't and _Astrals._  I don't even like kids that much but that _sound,_  urgh, I would have killed a man to make it stop.”

“Don't let him hear you say that, his guilty conscience is a mile wide.” Odessa said, peering over her shoulder to confirm that Cor hadn't, in fact, heard anything.

“I know, I know.” Aranea said, almost pouting as she took a long sip of the red wine Ignis had poured for her, “Him being sad is like this one being sad-” She tapped Prompto’s nose with her wineglass, “-it's like a three legged puppy.”

“Hey!” Prompto protested, wiping the drop of wine that had been transferred to his nose.

“It’s true, dear.” Aulea said.

The afternoon passed by like that, with Aranea catching everyone up on the goings on of Accordo and Tenebrae, where she’d spent most of her time. She’d never talked so much in her life, but there was something powerfully peaceful about Aulea’s sprawling gardens, the never ending flow of wine and eventually the little sweets and snacks that Ignis brought out that loosened her tongue. They were all shockingly good company as well, informal and funny and not at all the stuffy, stick-up-the-ass people she’d once imagined. It was interesting to be able to see the Noctis that Prompto had so lovingly described so long ago in the Dark. To see the man they’d so willingly died for.

She even had rooms in the Citadel, she was told, for whenever she wanted them. Although Luna said she could also show her how to get back to Tenebrae as well. Aranea knew that’s where Briggs and Wedge would be waiting, hopefully with her dropship, but her stomach was pleasantly warm, her mind fuzzy and she decided that for now, she’d stay. At the very least until she could punch Cor.

                                           ---

“So,” Noctis drawled, leaning his weight over the counter where Ignis was trying, and failing, to ignore his audience as he worked to smooth the now tie-dye frosting effect on Lunafreya's cake. “Aranea, huh?”

“She’s like my sister and yet?" Man, she's a beautiful badass, my dude.” Prompto sighed, staring into the distance and obviously instantly lost to his own imagination. "She's a beautiful badass, my dude."

“She kissed your cheek.” Gladio said.

 _“Drop it,_  if you please. I'm trying to concentrate.” Ignis said.

“She touched you, like, a lot.”

“It was how she used to indicate where she was so she didn’t startle me.” Ignis said through his teeth.

“I'm just happy for you, you know?” Noctis said, scooting along the stainless steel counter without lifting his elbows. He dipped his head, trying to catch Ignis's eyes, but Ignis could see the shit eating grin on his face from his reflection.

“Aranea is a friend and an invaluable ally. She helped me relearn to fight, among other things.” Ignis said, but he was was forced to set down his spatula as Noctis dug his bony elbow into his ribs.

“Among other things? More like relearn how to ban--AH!” Prompto learned over to stage whisper to Gladio, but Ignis, in a fit of childish anger tilted the end of his piping bag up and shot a stream of buttercream directly into Prompto’s face. “Ah! My-! MY EYES! Gods above, it _burns_!” 

Which is of course, was the exact moment that Aranea chose to strut into the kitchens, once again drawn by the smell of cooling vanilla cakes. She blinked, at the scene unfolding in front of her. Ignis, flushed red from from his neck to the tip of his ears, clutching a piping bag tight enough that a steady stream of frosting was curling on the counter below him. Prompto writhing on the floor and screaming, clawing at his face and smearing bright pink frosting everywhere. And finally Gladio and Noctis who  just barely holding each other up as they laughed themselves to hysterical tears, knees weak.

“Right then. I’ll come back.” She said, turning to leave. She took a few steps but paused and added over her shoulder, one hand trailing along the doorway, “Oh, and Ignis? If you need lessons, you only have to ask.”

“ _Oh my G-_!” Prompto, still writhing, opened one eye, ready to scream for an entirely different reason but when he saw Ignis above him, brandishing a metal spatula, he immediately quieted, and resolved himself to weeping frosting for the next two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aranea and Prompto are my BrOTP

**Author's Note:**

> Creative licence was definitely taken as to how the afterlife works. 
> 
> As always, thank you so so so so so much for reading! Please feel free to leave a comment below, your comments fuel me, friends.


End file.
